The Social Butterfly
Yesterday afternoon Z came home and told me we were invited to a gathering later in the evening by a client/friend of his for his girlfriend’s surprise birthday party. Oh goody. I’m going to be immersed in a bunch of people (around 30) that I don’t know.
Don’t get me wrong, I like gatherings! A lot. I’m a friendly person; definitely NOT a wallflower by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just that, well, I’ve been a wee bit down lately, what with the no job situation, my vacation being delayed until WHENEVER and all. But you know, you kinda have to be in the MOOD for one of these gatherings. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew someone there at least.
But wait! I it seems that I have met the birthday girl, Lisa, before. It would seem that I spent a majority of a Christmas Party about 3 years ago chatting with Lisa. She is a sweetie. Oh good. I DO know someone. Anyway, I figured, “Oh what the hell, at least I’ll get out of the house for a while, right?” Right.
Boy oh boy did I EVER!!!!!! Heh.
I got myself all dolled up. Hell, it’s amazing what a little eyeliner and lipstick and blush do for a woman’s mood. Especially ME! The makeup maniac. (But that, my darlings, is another post altogether!!) Scarlett sings: “I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! Oh so pretty and happy and …..” Well, you know the rest!
We showed up a little after 8:30 pm. Z was telling me to go in first. OH NO HE DOESN’T! He wasn’t being gentlemanly. No sireebob! Nope. He was shy. I told him, “Get yer butt in front of me, cause YOUR friend invited us, and I have no idea what he looks like and I’ve never met him!”. So, he did. Then, after the introductions, I start looking around at the gang of people gathered in the bar for Lisa’s party. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Everyone is in their mid to late 50’s at least! JJ asks me what I want for a drink, I take another glance at all the quiet, generally stuffy appearing older people and say, “MARGERITA PLEASE!” with a smile. Z looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Hee hee heeeeeee. Good.
Blah blah blah. Lisa comes over, is so excited that we came, she hasn’t seen us in AGES, yadda yadda yadda, etc.. and all. (She is really a sweetheart!) Here comes my drink in JJ’s hand. GIMMIE!!!!!!! I take it from him and take a sip…………..
THANK YOU LORD. It’s really, really good. I mean I haven’t had a margarita this good since I left Los Angeles in 1998! (Rose Ann, like the ones down the street from work, good!) PERFECT. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I stand around happily sipping my drink while Z and Lisa chit chat. (anybody’s guess where JJ went)
Thankfully it’s time to move to the tables. I am much better in these type of situations. NOW I am completely at ease. We sit down and I proceed to get to know our tablemates. In our general vicinity it is all women… but next to the lady sitting to my left is Ryan. (Remember this name for later on please) The lady next to me is a lovely Australian woman who seems to be in her early 40’s. Laura. She is a joy to sit next to. Turns out Laura’s hubby is an investment banker and when she asked me what I do and I explained, she choked on her drink. It seems that he is looking for an Executive PA. Isn’t that lovely? (Yeah, I worked it but good!) Across from me is Z. Next to him is an older lady with long ass blonde hair named Diane. I like me some Diane. Diane is older, yet very chic and elegant with loads of tasteful jewelry. Diane is British but with some Irish ancestry I believe. This little fact will also come in handy in a moment.
Hold on to your undies, for heavens sake!
The restaurant is more like an art gallery. Directly behind Z is a small stage with a mural on the wall and there sits the entertainment. A man with a good voice and a guitar and 2 big ass speakers. The lights are very dim, with spots on the artwork and there are candle tapers placed in the middle of the tables. So lovely. (Cause ladies, don’t we all know we look beautiful and enchanting by candlelight?” YUP!
Around now, a waiter comes around with a frothy pitcher of margaritas. He tops my almost empty glass up. I’m a happy woman. As we are all enjoying the ecstasy of our newly refilled drinks and getting to know each other..... I hear my dear husband stick his foot in his mouth with his usual comment to Diane who is seated next to him.
He apparently explained that I am Irish-American and she said “Yes, she is so obviously Irish with her amazing coloring-look at those big green eyes and that thick red hair!- and her beautiful complexion… only the Irish have a skin tone that pure and milky a white!” (I so love me some Diane right now!) Enter Z with his comment “Yeah, hah! And she has an Irish temper too!”
DOH! Wrong thing to say, I think.
Diane’s face went from a charming smile to narrowed blue slits for eyes, a set mouth, and very serious expression when she said “What temper? The Irish are known for being fun loving, and for breaking into song and dance. Friendly and charming with a love for a good drink now and then! The Irish don’t have tempers, so they my dear?” She asks me, smiling into my eyes. I smile at her and say sweetly “What temper?” as I daintily pick up my glass and as ladylike as possible suck down some of the contents. Heh. Z looks like he swallowed an octopus tentacle and it’s gotten stuck in his craw. Gawd I love when that happens. I wanted to ask “Would you like fries with that dear?”
This is the SECOND time that he has made this comment to someone about me that has IRISH BLOOD and they call him on it. HAH! It would seem he never learns, doesn’t it?
Ok never mind that I do have a temper. My full-blown temper isn’t all that often seen.. Naw, its rarely seen. If I lose my “Irish” temper, you will know it. Definitely. My temper is much like a volcano. It lies dormant for a while, and then, once the pressure cannot build any more, KABOOOOOOM!
But I digress.
They bring us starters, which we make short work of. Much like my drink. By now I’m on my 3rd refill and chatting away with everyone at my table. The main course is ordered and now they bring around a lovely white wine. Like I’m going to say no? Too late, it was placed in front of me. Oh well. I DO like white wine.
More talking and what not. I find out that I am sitting amidst millionaire bankers and businessmen. Everyone is either British, Australian, or some other type of European. There is one couple from Africa. You know, the white Africans in Zimbabwe that got kicked off their farms, their land taken from them, blah blah? That would be Ryan and Deborah.
Ryan loves him some drink, does Ryan. HE is a damn hoot. Another gentleman that loves his alcohol is Charles, Diane’s hubby. He is the freaking Millionaire banker that owns 8 investment banks. That Charles is a cheeky bugger.
Let me speed things up, hmmmm? Dinner comes, and for me, Lord only knows how many margarita refills. I lost count somewhere around 7. I know it was more, but hell if I know how many. Well! I’m not the only one drinking! Everyone by now is all friendly and having a lovely time. I don’t usually drink. There is never any alcohol in my house. (Ok, but that’s mainly cause Monster drinks booze like it’s water if it’s around and she’s in a freaking desert, ok? So I wouldn’t get any anyway!) My husband doesn’t drink at all. I drink on special occasions. Like this. (Hey Rose Ann, any outing with you is considered a special occasion sweetie!)
After dinner, Charles, who is by now quite high on his drinks, and who, I find out, Loves to dance, starts dancing with his wife. I think to myself how adorable they are and how very graceful. He does the whole ballroom/swing-dancing thing. I am enchanted. The singer leaves and puts on soft music. A little while later, once the restaurant is pretty much cleared out and we are on our own, Charles and Diane’s daughter and her friends, male and female, come to crash the party. They are all between the ages of 18- 22ish. One particularly adorable tall lanky guy eventually hops up on the stages, takes hold of the acoustic guitar attached to some amps and speakers and proceeds to blow our damn minds with his fucking AMAZING TALENT.
This guy, Eddie, he can sing and play man. He knows how to get an audience involved too! Someone get this guy a freaking recording contract NOW. He has a beautiful deep scratchy singing voice with a helluva range. He whipped out with some Little Richard, Beatles, Rolling Stones (I can’t get no sa-tis-faaaaaaction!!!!!!!)Jimmy Buffett, and MORE MORE MORE! The song “American Pie” more times than I want to remember, The Eagles, some 80s music, some 90’s, everything in between, and new millennium stuff too! Bloody hell. He covered every freaking decade for 40+ years! AND HE WAS GOOD. We were all singing and everyone started dancing. Well, I was sitting. A few of us were. For now.
Charles moseyed up and asked me for to dance. Z shrugged, and I said to myself “Why the hell not?” So I accepted. Dayum! I haven’t danced like this since I don’t know when!
Yes my lovelies, Scarlett was in the middle of the dance floor with the dancer that knew his stuff doing some major swing-dance moves. WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! He danced with me for two songs, since he thought I was such a good dance partner. I was a bit rusty, but it comes right back, like riding a bicycle. I was having so much fun and laughing y’all!!!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
I was finally returned to my seat. More drink refills ensued, and I found myself singing with Eddie and the rest of the gang to his songs. I see the Philippino waiters over in the corner tapping their feet and clapping along with the music. They are enjoying themselves too. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, I see one of them fly up onto the stage, snatch a tambourine from God Knows WHERE and start shaking his shit and his tambourine up next to Eddie, really getting into it! Can you all imagine my face? I was in freaking hysterics people. The little waiter guy was SO INTO IT. And he was doing well too, bless his heart!
The waiter, continued on, and in a bit, he went FUCKING INSANE! He started dancing and running all over the damn place in a complete FRENZY Y’ALL!!!!!!!! Like he was on crack and going through withdrawals. I was INSENSATE and staring openmouthed at the spectacle unfolding before my eyes! Then I started laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe!
This brings a whole new meaning to ROTFLMAO.
Damn I wish I had pictures. I really do.
When I get my breath back, I start singing along at the top of my voice at this point, with everyone else. Scarlett can project her voice, (can’t I Costrina?) and it seems she hasn’t forgotten how to do so either!! Heh. Remember this too, my lovelies.
Round about 2:30am, we are all still going strong. I was sitting there, still clutching my bottomless pit of a margarita glass in my hand and finding myself completely amazed that all these people that I am with who were all being so stuffy, circumspect and proper are now drunk off their asses and ALL OVER THE DANCE FLOOR. Funny what tequila does to people, innit?
In the middle of my musings and general mental repetitions inside my head of “I am SO BLOGGING THIS TOMORROW!!!!! Mustn’t forget anything!”, well, this is when Ryan, who we all gave up and gave him his own pitcher with a straw, comes over and yanks me out of my chair for a dance. He is SO shitfaced I don’t know how he stands, much less plans to dance. But dance we did. Until he started twirling me, and then couldn’t decide if he wanted to lead, or to let me lead, and then he made ME twirl HIM whereupon he promptly spun out of control and would have fallen on a table if I hadn’t grabbed him! He started laughing uproariously at this, and then decided to do a waltz-like dance instead. I couldn’t help myself. I was laughing my head off by this time at Ryan’s antics. I finally escaped and sat back in my seat.
More singing and watching OTHERS dance madly until slowly people went close to 3 am. Eddie had stopped singing at this point. I found out that Z had invited JJ and Lisa over for me to cook dinner for them in the near future, and suddenly it was just Z and myself, Eddie, JJ and Lisa. Eddie’s friends were outside, Z, JJ and Lisa were talking, and I decided to compliment Eddie on his rather obvious talent. He told me the sweetest thing, this lovely Swedish guy that was so cute that the Brit ladies sitting with me were earlier saying they could fancy a shag with him, please let him be LEGAL. He said. “You are a singer, I could hear you over everyone’s voices. You knew all the words. Next time, come up and sing with ME! You have to!”.
Wow. Thanks cutie pie. You just made my night! I said thank you, and sure, next time I’d sing with him. I left the cutie pie comment out.
Z and I got home at 3:30am to monster and her dramatics waiting for us. She hates it when we go out or have a good time. I ran in, jumped in the shower, and then crawled in the bed around 4am and slept like a baby.
This morning, I woke up perfectly fine. No pounding head. NO sensitivity to light. Nada. Yes, yet again, I have made my Irish Nana proud. She would haunt me if I let a little tequila bring me low.
So what do you all think, hmmmm? Does it sound like I had fun?
Man, I want a drink- monster is STIL bitching about our outing.
9/11/2004
9/08/2004
Another Guilty Pleasure
Y'all, I feel that it is time for me to announce another one of my guilty pleasures. Yes, it is Scarlett Cyn's confession time yet again.
You all know about the shoes and handbags. Yes indeedy you do. (And if you DON"T know what I'm talking about, then go snoop around my archives. HOP TO!)
You also know about my little addiction to historical romance novels. And now, it is time for me to spill the beans.
I'm totally addicted to the reality show Survivor. This is a fairly new addiction. I fought the whole reality tv thing with my entire being. But then.......one fateful evening.... with 600 satelliete channels to choose from and STILL nothin on... I happened across an episode of Survivor Pearl Islands, and that quickly my friends, I was hooked. It was the very first episode, I had missed the first 7 minutes, but the second I saw Rupert steal the other tribe's shoes, I HAD to watch. That was some funny shit, y'all. And I 've been hooked ever since.
No way in HELL I could go on that show. Nuh-uh. Princess likes her niceties, she does. They make them eat some FOUL crap on that show too. um, no. Another reason I couldn't handle it? I. HATE. Fish. period. And speaking of period....... this enquiring mind wants to know what the women do when it's "that time of the month". I mean, hell, they are on a freaking ISLAND, and on camera most of the time. (I'm a wee bit twisted, aren't I?) HEY! It's a valid damn question.
What made me drag this up now? Cause I heard on TV tonight that the new Survivor starts September 16. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! And guess what? It's women against men. (Well, that and the fact that there are 2 lesbians on this show should prove for some interesting stuff, dontcha think?)
I do.
Y'all, I feel that it is time for me to announce another one of my guilty pleasures. Yes, it is Scarlett Cyn's confession time yet again.
You all know about the shoes and handbags. Yes indeedy you do. (And if you DON"T know what I'm talking about, then go snoop around my archives. HOP TO!)
You also know about my little addiction to historical romance novels. And now, it is time for me to spill the beans.
I'm totally addicted to the reality show Survivor. This is a fairly new addiction. I fought the whole reality tv thing with my entire being. But then.......one fateful evening.... with 600 satelliete channels to choose from and STILL nothin on... I happened across an episode of Survivor Pearl Islands, and that quickly my friends, I was hooked. It was the very first episode, I had missed the first 7 minutes, but the second I saw Rupert steal the other tribe's shoes, I HAD to watch. That was some funny shit, y'all. And I 've been hooked ever since.
No way in HELL I could go on that show. Nuh-uh. Princess likes her niceties, she does. They make them eat some FOUL crap on that show too. um, no. Another reason I couldn't handle it? I. HATE. Fish. period. And speaking of period....... this enquiring mind wants to know what the women do when it's "that time of the month". I mean, hell, they are on a freaking ISLAND, and on camera most of the time. (I'm a wee bit twisted, aren't I?) HEY! It's a valid damn question.
What made me drag this up now? Cause I heard on TV tonight that the new Survivor starts September 16. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! And guess what? It's women against men. (Well, that and the fact that there are 2 lesbians on this show should prove for some interesting stuff, dontcha think?)
I do.
The First Day
Today was Arianna's first day of 5th grade.
Last night she was trailing around after me, checking, double-checking and triple-checking that I was not forgetting anything for her first day. Luchbox-CHECK. Uniform - CHECK. Shoes- Polished , CHECK. Blah blah blah. She went to bed early, without my nagging her. WOW!
My poor baby. She was so nervous. She set her alarm clock and passed right out.
It would seem she was more anxious than even I figured. Poor thing woke up a 3am and couldn't go back to sleep. She watched a video quietly until 5:30, not waking up the house until then. She was ready and had fixed her own breakfast even! (Ok, it was cereal, toast and tea, but STILL!) She is very self-sufficient at any rate.
Off she went to school. . She was the first student there, before they even unlocked the gates! Met her new homeroom teacher who seems very nice. Then she took a look at the class list posted on the door. Oh no! Some kids she really can't stand from last year (boys). Exit parents, stage Left.
Tick tock, tick tock........... Cut to 3:13 pm........
School bus arrives home. I ask how her day went as I lift the backpack off her shoulders and take her now empty lunch box from her hand. Lunch is waiting on the table for her. Hands now washed as she begins her tale.
It would seem that she didn't have as much fun as she expected today. Only 8 students in her class showed up. 8 out of 20. Hmmmmmm. Teacher couldn't really do much. THEN, her French teacher didn't show up today either! I told her to look on the bright side. She asked me "What bright side MOMMMMMMM? MY FRENCH TEACHER DIDN"T COME!" I said "The bright side being, maybe its a NEW French teacher since you despised the one you had last year!" (she loved her French teacher the first 3 years-and she loved Arianna also, but then they gave her a different one last year. She still did fine, but didn't ENJOY the class.) Well, this perked her RIGHT UP! OOH! She just told me that she saw her favorite French teacher and she came and gave her a big hug. Awwwww, that's nice.
Apparently, there is a different Principal from 5th grade on up. Apparently he is a real hard-ass. Principal Melvin. I made her repeat that name a few times while I laughed my ass off. MELVIN? Principal Melvin? She asked what was so funny, I said, well,that's just kind of a nerd name is all.... but I'm sure he isn't a nerd at all!" *snicker, chortle, guffaw*
She keeps coming to me with new stories. I think I really like this new teacher of hers!!! She was just ranting that every time a new teacher came to be introduced, she made them all stand up to attention and say "GOOD MORNING MISS _______" then sit back down again.
Yup, I like her already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have GMAIL invitations babies! 12 of em. If you would like one, please email me or put a comment and let me know and I'll send you the invitation! They have like 1000GB of storage for free. Its fabulous.
Email: Scarlett.Cyn@gmail.com
Today was Arianna's first day of 5th grade.
Last night she was trailing around after me, checking, double-checking and triple-checking that I was not forgetting anything for her first day. Luchbox-CHECK. Uniform - CHECK. Shoes- Polished , CHECK. Blah blah blah. She went to bed early, without my nagging her. WOW!
My poor baby. She was so nervous. She set her alarm clock and passed right out.
It would seem she was more anxious than even I figured. Poor thing woke up a 3am and couldn't go back to sleep. She watched a video quietly until 5:30, not waking up the house until then. She was ready and had fixed her own breakfast even! (Ok, it was cereal, toast and tea, but STILL!) She is very self-sufficient at any rate.
Off she went to school. . She was the first student there, before they even unlocked the gates! Met her new homeroom teacher who seems very nice. Then she took a look at the class list posted on the door. Oh no! Some kids she really can't stand from last year (boys). Exit parents, stage Left.
Tick tock, tick tock........... Cut to 3:13 pm........
School bus arrives home. I ask how her day went as I lift the backpack off her shoulders and take her now empty lunch box from her hand. Lunch is waiting on the table for her. Hands now washed as she begins her tale.
It would seem that she didn't have as much fun as she expected today. Only 8 students in her class showed up. 8 out of 20. Hmmmmmm. Teacher couldn't really do much. THEN, her French teacher didn't show up today either! I told her to look on the bright side. She asked me "What bright side MOMMMMMMM? MY FRENCH TEACHER DIDN"T COME!" I said "The bright side being, maybe its a NEW French teacher since you despised the one you had last year!" (she loved her French teacher the first 3 years-and she loved Arianna also, but then they gave her a different one last year. She still did fine, but didn't ENJOY the class.) Well, this perked her RIGHT UP! OOH! She just told me that she saw her favorite French teacher and she came and gave her a big hug. Awwwww, that's nice.
Apparently, there is a different Principal from 5th grade on up. Apparently he is a real hard-ass. Principal Melvin. I made her repeat that name a few times while I laughed my ass off. MELVIN? Principal Melvin? She asked what was so funny, I said, well,that's just kind of a nerd name is all.... but I'm sure he isn't a nerd at all!" *snicker, chortle, guffaw*
She keeps coming to me with new stories. I think I really like this new teacher of hers!!! She was just ranting that every time a new teacher came to be introduced, she made them all stand up to attention and say "GOOD MORNING MISS _______" then sit back down again.
Yup, I like her already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have GMAIL invitations babies! 12 of em. If you would like one, please email me or put a comment and let me know and I'll send you the invitation! They have like 1000GB of storage for free. Its fabulous.
Email: Scarlett.Cyn@gmail.com
9/04/2004
The Curse of Mothers EVERYWHERE
Back to School. It sends a shiver down my spine. Why? Allow me to elaborate, hmmm?
I'm sure all mothers know what I'm going to rant about today. I'm sure of it. For ME to rant about this, SHOPPING, is a major and rare thing. Although today wasn't too bad, cause I went alone. It's ALWAYS better when I go alone.
All the schools here wear uniforms, thank GOD. Ok, in a way, thank God. In another way, this is a fucking NIGHTMARE. Arianna happens to go to one of the MANY private schools here. There is ONE, count em, ONE Uniform shop in the whole of Bahrain that until last year had only one location, on a small extremely BUSY street with 5 parallel parking spaces which it must share with the beauty supply shop (also the only one) and some other shop or other. The shop is so small and crammed with racks upon racks (I MEAN CRAMMED) and counters, and sales staff and PEOPLE with their UMPTEEN children and their respective maids. It gave me a bad attack of claustrophobia which led to a anxiety attack. It wasn't pretty. Anyhow, do you all get how damn small it is? Good. ie: when they run out of your kid's size of the pre-made ones, you have to special order a custom one, which takes about2-3 weeks due to the backlog of all the other parents as stupid as you obviously are to wait till the last damn minute. (This happened to me once a few years ago. NEVER AGAIN) Anyway, last year the geniuses that own it opened another branch (AMEN PRAISE JESUS!!!!!!!Halleleuja!) in my favorite beautifully designed and laid out, but not overly busy mall not 10 minutes from my house with sh*tloads of parking! This shop is HEWGE, extremely brightly lit and spacious. I want to kiss the feet of the owner for opeining this branch. They saved my life and my sanity. Surplus of uniforms. YES! and white PE shorts (or SKORTS, whichever you prefer), and the SPECIAL DAMN T-shirt with the school logo on it (I got in trouble for this, but I'll go into this later), and the other special PE t-shirt of which I don't have the slightest clue what color to buy yet so it will have to wait. and the school ties, and cardigans... and ... and... and... and... (also, this place has maid and nanny uniforms, and medical staff uniforms- which is totally unrelated to this post, but I just thought I would toss it in for background info).
Now here comes the part where I might get pounded on by my readers (but most of you are women so you will probably TOTALLY empathise). Ari's cousin Juju (nickname for her real name, Jawaher, which means JEWELS) is 3 years ahead of Ari in the same school. This is N's youngest daughter. Juju gave Ari a couple of her old, but like new uniforms last month. Does she wanna wear them? Hell no. Why? Cause they are the "old style" uniform and since LAST year the girls have 2 options. Ok, mind you, I think the old style is waaaaay cuter. It's a square neck jumper style, with an attached pleated skirt. (bear in mind the goddamn pleats, will you?) When I say pleats, we are talking about 25-ish pleats here in the skirt. It falls just above the knee. The waist is cinched. (BTW- her uniform is a deep beautiful baby blue solid cotton with the logo patch on the left.) It looks beautiful on her with her figure especially now that she has a smaller waist and some hips. The NEW style (Juju's new uniform also) is also a square necked jumper style, but more like an A-line slim cut dress. Sleeveless also, but there is ONLY one pleat in front and NONE in back. It also has a seperate belt that goes in loops. (more 60's style) Both styles wear either long or short sleeved white blouse underneath and a Blue tie same material and color of the dress uniform. (Duh, white socks and black shoes) (Cardigans MUST be white. Anal freaking schools, all of them)
I have been swearing left right and center that I would NOT give in to the whole "new Uniform style" thingie. Guess what? Today I folded. I gave in. She got lucky, actually. There was ONE left in her size. (It's only worn 2 out of the 5 days of school, so one will do fine) Of course it's appalingly long, so I have to get it altered at the tailor, but that's not a biggie. Know my deciding factor? The wonderful lack of pleats. The other uniform is so cute, but do you have ANY IDEA WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS it is to be ironing all those pleats so they are all crisp and even?? NIGHTMARE. (I actually like ironing,but that is pushing it BIGTIME) One big pleat in the front vs. 25-ish? SO, I got the freaking new uniform for her, new shorts and a new PE Tee. I got all happy and noticed the new design for the PE shirts and thought I'd get one like that for her. You know, a big surprise. uh huh. I was doing ok up till then.
Anyway, today, I also had to go hit a big store that is as close to a Costco as I'm gonna get here since I had to get her lined notebooks and miscellaneous things needed. I also had to buy the clear adhesive bookcover rolls. (THAT took me an hour and a half to cover all her damn books. WHAT? I'm meticulous!) I had already hit this store 2 weeks ago with Her Majesty (Ari) to get some basics that I knew she needed before I got the actual list provided by the school. Pens, pencils, music books, art supplies (basic) (OK, I stocked up on the colored construction paper, cause you can never find it when the art teacher issues orders to bring it in TOMORROW!) blah, blah.bleeeeh. Ari drove me up the freaking WALL that day. Next school purchase excursion was for her book bag, since she couldn't decide the day she made me pop Xanax. In this, I triumphed! A really cute bag, and inexpensive. Actually, I love .. love.. LOVE this bag! Got her the matching soft lunchbox. It looks like Denim and has pretty Red and fuschia stars all over it. BRATZ Girls for those of you with kids. It's very cute. Lovin it. I was all smug with the inexpensiveness of it too. (Still am) The day of the schoolbag purchase I girded my loins and drug her to buy trainers. Shit.
Here again, the freaking school is anal and precise. A-N-A-L. Must be white. No color allowed on it excecpt the same baby blue of the uniform. A-holes. FINALLY I found some that she would put up with that didn't cost as much as her school books after much coaxing, pleading, whining and begging... on my part.
I bought a damn mountain of white socks. Why so many? Cause somehow, they go missing. Maybe the cats? I dunno. (Scarlett the Calico-tabby kitty DOES have a weird shoe and sock fetish, maybe she's the culprit?? Could be Angel also, since she worships anything to DO with Arianna. Whatever Angel finds that has Ari's scent on it, she rolls on it and purrs real realll loud. (She guards Ari when she sleeps by sitting like the Sphinx on her pillow next to her head and watching over her, or at her feet, facing out. She follows Ari all over the house like a shadow wherever she goes also.) Although, I DID catch monster wearing Ari's casual socks, the new ones I had bought her for the cooler weather which pissed me off to no end. Not as much as it pissed Ari off tho! Hahahaha. I sicked her on her grandmonster. (Me: Pssst! Lookiee, she's wearing your new socks you were lookin for!) heh heh heh. Have you seen two tomcats fighting? That's what it's like when Ari finds out Monster has swiped some of her stuff. We ended up not finding black shoes we could agree on. That I will leave for DADDY to do. (Cause I'm beat, frankly)
See, Z went and picked up her new school books for this year last Thursday. 5th Grade. We have to buy those too. I have a problem with this. Know why? Cause I spent only slightly more on my books for COLLEGE. $240.00 for the school books only. Not to mention all the other supplies. Thank GOD she is in the British Curriculum school. It's a good school. I wish I could afford to put her in one of the 4 American Curriculum schools, but the damn tuition is so bloody high its rediculous. One is run by the Pentagon (Bahrain School). One by Z's Auntie (where I taught for a year) and their is one owned by a Sheikha, and one other. The two worse of those is the Pentagon-run school and the Shaikha's school (which is only for girls) Bahrain School is about $16,000 a year. The Sheikha's girls school is about $8-9,000 a year PLUS BOOKS. The books for all of those American schools are much more expensive since they bring the textbooks from the US. My other neice, Mimi is in the Auntie's school and her school books are $800.00 I'm sorry, but that shit is just SICK. So, British Curriculum it is! The tuition is much more reasonable. A fraction of the other fees actually. We pay about $160.00 a month including bus transport to and from school (we only gave in to the whole bus thing from this year). That breaks down to US$ 1,600.00 PER YEAR. Plus books and the usual crap. Big difference, no?
2 months ago, I happened across a big fat sale on school blouses and excercise pants, etc.. so I DID stock up on the things for this next school year in that way. (I'm waiting for you all to pat me on the back.... it was a 50% off sale)
Today, I even stocked up on goodies for the lunchbox. I'm racking my brain trying to think of anything I might have forgotten to get (excecpt for the black shoes) OH SHIT! The hair stuff. Must be school colors also or the teachers NAG.
Soooo, I crawl in shortly after 6pm bag laden. I mischeviously wave the House of Uniforms shopping bag in front of my gonna-be-10-in 7-days pre-teen daughter. She starts squealing with joy. Ahhhh music to a Mama's ears. Uniform: WOOHOOO! Fits, just waaaaay long. I swear I will get it fixed properly and not let monster near it to alter all crooked herself. (I can sew, but this is major) New PE shorts. She loves em. Then we get to the new style PE shirt. Remember that?
I fucked up apparently. She went from ear to ear smiles and hopping up and down to a truly irritated and angry grumpy face. Ugh. "Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! EVERYONE HAS THAAAAATTTT!" Guess what my response was? Come on, guess! I said.... "SO. WHAT. The logo is much smaller and the shirt will stay nice longer and WHY ON EARTH AM I EXPLAINING MYSELF TO YOU? YOU'RE WELCOME!", and I walked out.
School starts Wednesday. Yeah, THIS Wednesday. Wheeeeeeee!
PS: The weather today was fucking NASTY. 100% humidity. God but I hate the humidity. I felt totally lightheadded from the heat. ewwwwwwwwwwwww. Stupid weather. Have I mentioned that the humidity stays at around 100% from now through Mid -late October? (ie: my hair becomes like Chaka Khan in this weather no matter how much Frizz Ease I use. *SOB*)
Back to School. It sends a shiver down my spine. Why? Allow me to elaborate, hmmm?
I'm sure all mothers know what I'm going to rant about today. I'm sure of it. For ME to rant about this, SHOPPING, is a major and rare thing. Although today wasn't too bad, cause I went alone. It's ALWAYS better when I go alone.
All the schools here wear uniforms, thank GOD. Ok, in a way, thank God. In another way, this is a fucking NIGHTMARE. Arianna happens to go to one of the MANY private schools here. There is ONE, count em, ONE Uniform shop in the whole of Bahrain that until last year had only one location, on a small extremely BUSY street with 5 parallel parking spaces which it must share with the beauty supply shop (also the only one) and some other shop or other. The shop is so small and crammed with racks upon racks (I MEAN CRAMMED) and counters, and sales staff and PEOPLE with their UMPTEEN children and their respective maids. It gave me a bad attack of claustrophobia which led to a anxiety attack. It wasn't pretty. Anyhow, do you all get how damn small it is? Good. ie: when they run out of your kid's size of the pre-made ones, you have to special order a custom one, which takes about2-3 weeks due to the backlog of all the other parents as stupid as you obviously are to wait till the last damn minute. (This happened to me once a few years ago. NEVER AGAIN) Anyway, last year the geniuses that own it opened another branch (AMEN PRAISE JESUS!!!!!!!Halleleuja!) in my favorite beautifully designed and laid out, but not overly busy mall not 10 minutes from my house with sh*tloads of parking! This shop is HEWGE, extremely brightly lit and spacious. I want to kiss the feet of the owner for opeining this branch. They saved my life and my sanity. Surplus of uniforms. YES! and white PE shorts (or SKORTS, whichever you prefer), and the SPECIAL DAMN T-shirt with the school logo on it (I got in trouble for this, but I'll go into this later), and the other special PE t-shirt of which I don't have the slightest clue what color to buy yet so it will have to wait. and the school ties, and cardigans... and ... and... and... and... (also, this place has maid and nanny uniforms, and medical staff uniforms- which is totally unrelated to this post, but I just thought I would toss it in for background info).
Now here comes the part where I might get pounded on by my readers (but most of you are women so you will probably TOTALLY empathise). Ari's cousin Juju (nickname for her real name, Jawaher, which means JEWELS) is 3 years ahead of Ari in the same school. This is N's youngest daughter. Juju gave Ari a couple of her old, but like new uniforms last month. Does she wanna wear them? Hell no. Why? Cause they are the "old style" uniform and since LAST year the girls have 2 options. Ok, mind you, I think the old style is waaaaay cuter. It's a square neck jumper style, with an attached pleated skirt. (bear in mind the goddamn pleats, will you?) When I say pleats, we are talking about 25-ish pleats here in the skirt. It falls just above the knee. The waist is cinched. (BTW- her uniform is a deep beautiful baby blue solid cotton with the logo patch on the left.) It looks beautiful on her with her figure especially now that she has a smaller waist and some hips. The NEW style (Juju's new uniform also) is also a square necked jumper style, but more like an A-line slim cut dress. Sleeveless also, but there is ONLY one pleat in front and NONE in back. It also has a seperate belt that goes in loops. (more 60's style) Both styles wear either long or short sleeved white blouse underneath and a Blue tie same material and color of the dress uniform. (Duh, white socks and black shoes) (Cardigans MUST be white. Anal freaking schools, all of them)
I have been swearing left right and center that I would NOT give in to the whole "new Uniform style" thingie. Guess what? Today I folded. I gave in. She got lucky, actually. There was ONE left in her size. (It's only worn 2 out of the 5 days of school, so one will do fine) Of course it's appalingly long, so I have to get it altered at the tailor, but that's not a biggie. Know my deciding factor? The wonderful lack of pleats. The other uniform is so cute, but do you have ANY IDEA WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS it is to be ironing all those pleats so they are all crisp and even?? NIGHTMARE. (I actually like ironing,but that is pushing it BIGTIME) One big pleat in the front vs. 25-ish? SO, I got the freaking new uniform for her, new shorts and a new PE Tee. I got all happy and noticed the new design for the PE shirts and thought I'd get one like that for her. You know, a big surprise. uh huh. I was doing ok up till then.
Anyway, today, I also had to go hit a big store that is as close to a Costco as I'm gonna get here since I had to get her lined notebooks and miscellaneous things needed. I also had to buy the clear adhesive bookcover rolls. (THAT took me an hour and a half to cover all her damn books. WHAT? I'm meticulous!) I had already hit this store 2 weeks ago with Her Majesty (Ari) to get some basics that I knew she needed before I got the actual list provided by the school. Pens, pencils, music books, art supplies (basic) (OK, I stocked up on the colored construction paper, cause you can never find it when the art teacher issues orders to bring it in TOMORROW!) blah, blah.bleeeeh. Ari drove me up the freaking WALL that day. Next school purchase excursion was for her book bag, since she couldn't decide the day she made me pop Xanax. In this, I triumphed! A really cute bag, and inexpensive. Actually, I love .. love.. LOVE this bag! Got her the matching soft lunchbox. It looks like Denim and has pretty Red and fuschia stars all over it. BRATZ Girls for those of you with kids. It's very cute. Lovin it. I was all smug with the inexpensiveness of it too. (Still am) The day of the schoolbag purchase I girded my loins and drug her to buy trainers. Shit.
Here again, the freaking school is anal and precise. A-N-A-L. Must be white. No color allowed on it excecpt the same baby blue of the uniform. A-holes. FINALLY I found some that she would put up with that didn't cost as much as her school books after much coaxing, pleading, whining and begging... on my part.
I bought a damn mountain of white socks. Why so many? Cause somehow, they go missing. Maybe the cats? I dunno. (Scarlett the Calico-tabby kitty DOES have a weird shoe and sock fetish, maybe she's the culprit?? Could be Angel also, since she worships anything to DO with Arianna. Whatever Angel finds that has Ari's scent on it, she rolls on it and purrs real realll loud. (She guards Ari when she sleeps by sitting like the Sphinx on her pillow next to her head and watching over her, or at her feet, facing out. She follows Ari all over the house like a shadow wherever she goes also.) Although, I DID catch monster wearing Ari's casual socks, the new ones I had bought her for the cooler weather which pissed me off to no end. Not as much as it pissed Ari off tho! Hahahaha. I sicked her on her grandmonster. (Me: Pssst! Lookiee, she's wearing your new socks you were lookin for!) heh heh heh. Have you seen two tomcats fighting? That's what it's like when Ari finds out Monster has swiped some of her stuff. We ended up not finding black shoes we could agree on. That I will leave for DADDY to do. (Cause I'm beat, frankly)
See, Z went and picked up her new school books for this year last Thursday. 5th Grade. We have to buy those too. I have a problem with this. Know why? Cause I spent only slightly more on my books for COLLEGE. $240.00 for the school books only. Not to mention all the other supplies. Thank GOD she is in the British Curriculum school. It's a good school. I wish I could afford to put her in one of the 4 American Curriculum schools, but the damn tuition is so bloody high its rediculous. One is run by the Pentagon (Bahrain School). One by Z's Auntie (where I taught for a year) and their is one owned by a Sheikha, and one other. The two worse of those is the Pentagon-run school and the Shaikha's school (which is only for girls) Bahrain School is about $16,000 a year. The Sheikha's girls school is about $8-9,000 a year PLUS BOOKS. The books for all of those American schools are much more expensive since they bring the textbooks from the US. My other neice, Mimi is in the Auntie's school and her school books are $800.00 I'm sorry, but that shit is just SICK. So, British Curriculum it is! The tuition is much more reasonable. A fraction of the other fees actually. We pay about $160.00 a month including bus transport to and from school (we only gave in to the whole bus thing from this year). That breaks down to US$ 1,600.00 PER YEAR. Plus books and the usual crap. Big difference, no?
2 months ago, I happened across a big fat sale on school blouses and excercise pants, etc.. so I DID stock up on the things for this next school year in that way. (I'm waiting for you all to pat me on the back.... it was a 50% off sale)
Today, I even stocked up on goodies for the lunchbox. I'm racking my brain trying to think of anything I might have forgotten to get (excecpt for the black shoes) OH SHIT! The hair stuff. Must be school colors also or the teachers NAG.
Soooo, I crawl in shortly after 6pm bag laden. I mischeviously wave the House of Uniforms shopping bag in front of my gonna-be-10-in 7-days pre-teen daughter. She starts squealing with joy. Ahhhh music to a Mama's ears. Uniform: WOOHOOO! Fits, just waaaaay long. I swear I will get it fixed properly and not let monster near it to alter all crooked herself. (I can sew, but this is major) New PE shorts. She loves em. Then we get to the new style PE shirt. Remember that?
I fucked up apparently. She went from ear to ear smiles and hopping up and down to a truly irritated and angry grumpy face. Ugh. "Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! EVERYONE HAS THAAAAATTTT!" Guess what my response was? Come on, guess! I said.... "SO. WHAT. The logo is much smaller and the shirt will stay nice longer and WHY ON EARTH AM I EXPLAINING MYSELF TO YOU? YOU'RE WELCOME!", and I walked out.
School starts Wednesday. Yeah, THIS Wednesday. Wheeeeeeee!
PS: The weather today was fucking NASTY. 100% humidity. God but I hate the humidity. I felt totally lightheadded from the heat. ewwwwwwwwwwwww. Stupid weather. Have I mentioned that the humidity stays at around 100% from now through Mid -late October? (ie: my hair becomes like Chaka Khan in this weather no matter how much Frizz Ease I use. *SOB*)
Plain or Special??
I made old fashioned 'cooked' iced tea today. Also known in the South as "Sweet tea". YUM.
I haven't done this in a while. I don't remember when the last time I did it was either. I'm really the only one that drinks Iced tea in my house. Arianna occasionally does also, but not enough to help me finish the whole jug anytime soon, ya know?
My cooking tea apparently FASCINATED my daughter. She kept coming and going, not saying much of anything (very VERY unsual), just looking with interest and then leaving. I would enquire "What's up baby?" of her every now and then receiving "nothin". Finally, it was done and cooled. Well, cooled enough to put in the big ass pitcher/jug thingie anyway. Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she asked me what the hell I was up to.
A: "Mama? What ARE you doin?"
ME: "Making iced sweet tea honey."
A: "Oh..." starts to walk away, stops dead in her tracks and comes back. "YOU MADE WHAT???? How'd you do THAT??? I don't see any can or jar or..... "
ME: *shudder* " You know I don't like instant Iced tea too much honey! I cooked it. Just like Nana does. *points to pile of Lipton Teabags* This is how they make it where Nana is from."
She watches me transfer from the cooking pot to the jug in fascination.
A: "Mama?"
ME: "Yes?"
A: "Is it plain or special?"
ME: "Whaaa?"
A: " Does it have taste? You know, like peach or something or is it plain?"
Me: -----------
A: "you know, like in the can in the stores where it's ready made" (gives me "DUH!!" look)
ME: "Um, it's plain. No Peach."
A: Gives me look of disappointment "OH......"
ME: desperately "But I can put lemon in it! Hows that?"
A: *brightens considerably* "Yeah, I guess that would be ok! You're cool mama. I didn't know you could do this!"
ME: *big satisfied grin*
Anybody care for a nice tall glass of iced tea with lemon????
I made old fashioned 'cooked' iced tea today. Also known in the South as "Sweet tea". YUM.
I haven't done this in a while. I don't remember when the last time I did it was either. I'm really the only one that drinks Iced tea in my house. Arianna occasionally does also, but not enough to help me finish the whole jug anytime soon, ya know?
My cooking tea apparently FASCINATED my daughter. She kept coming and going, not saying much of anything (very VERY unsual), just looking with interest and then leaving. I would enquire "What's up baby?" of her every now and then receiving "nothin". Finally, it was done and cooled. Well, cooled enough to put in the big ass pitcher/jug thingie anyway. Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she asked me what the hell I was up to.
A: "Mama? What ARE you doin?"
ME: "Making iced sweet tea honey."
A: "Oh..." starts to walk away, stops dead in her tracks and comes back. "YOU MADE WHAT???? How'd you do THAT??? I don't see any can or jar or..... "
ME: *shudder* " You know I don't like instant Iced tea too much honey! I cooked it. Just like Nana does. *points to pile of Lipton Teabags* This is how they make it where Nana is from."
She watches me transfer from the cooking pot to the jug in fascination.
A: "Mama?"
ME: "Yes?"
A: "Is it plain or special?"
ME: "Whaaa?"
A: " Does it have taste? You know, like peach or something or is it plain?"
Me: -----------
A: "you know, like in the can in the stores where it's ready made" (gives me "DUH!!" look)
ME: "Um, it's plain. No Peach."
A: Gives me look of disappointment "OH......"
ME: desperately "But I can put lemon in it! Hows that?"
A: *brightens considerably* "Yeah, I guess that would be ok! You're cool mama. I didn't know you could do this!"
ME: *big satisfied grin*
Anybody care for a nice tall glass of iced tea with lemon????
9/03/2004
VOTE GENUINE/BUZZ 2004!!!!!
Could It Be Any Worse?
Naaaw, I don't think so. Not really. The Presidential Candidate is a good friend of mine. He's a GENUINELY good guy. Also? I've just recieved confirmation today from the Vice Presidential Candidate (in the Blogsphere) that when (I"m so positive, aren't I?) they win, I can have Condi's job.
Hot damn!!!!!
Personally, I think I'd do real well in Condi's job, don't you? I mean, I know I don't have a supertanker named after me or anything... (yet), and I'm not a gizillionaire, but still.... can I really botch things up any worse? I don't think so.
See, for instance, if I had seen the memo that she testified about, (you know, the one that didn't have a clear enough subject line-faugh!) back in August 2001? Hell, I would have thrown a major hissyfit (and you know I would have, too) if nobody gave it the proper attention. HELLO!!!!??????!!!!!! Jeez. Anyhoo.....
You know the best thing? All the scandals that the gossip rags would want to sniff out are pretty much already here on my blog! hahahahahahahahahaha. That takes the wind out of their sails, now doesen't it?
(I tried to post the lovely button they've made up here on my blog, but apparently BLOGGER.COM doesn't like it much.)
Just remember Vote Genuine/Buzz in 2004!!!!!!!!!! A vote for Genuine is a Genuine Vote!!!!!!
Could It Be Any Worse?
Naaaw, I don't think so. Not really. The Presidential Candidate is a good friend of mine. He's a GENUINELY good guy. Also? I've just recieved confirmation today from the Vice Presidential Candidate (in the Blogsphere) that when (I"m so positive, aren't I?) they win, I can have Condi's job.
Hot damn!!!!!
Personally, I think I'd do real well in Condi's job, don't you? I mean, I know I don't have a supertanker named after me or anything... (yet), and I'm not a gizillionaire, but still.... can I really botch things up any worse? I don't think so.
See, for instance, if I had seen the memo that she testified about, (you know, the one that didn't have a clear enough subject line-faugh!) back in August 2001? Hell, I would have thrown a major hissyfit (and you know I would have, too) if nobody gave it the proper attention. HELLO!!!!??????!!!!!! Jeez. Anyhoo.....
You know the best thing? All the scandals that the gossip rags would want to sniff out are pretty much already here on my blog! hahahahahahahahahaha. That takes the wind out of their sails, now doesen't it?
(I tried to post the lovely button they've made up here on my blog, but apparently BLOGGER.COM doesn't like it much.)
Just remember Vote Genuine/Buzz in 2004!!!!!!!!!! A vote for Genuine is a Genuine Vote!!!!!!
9/02/2004
Feelin the LOVE
I just want to say I love my readers. (Even you that don't post, it's ok, sorta, I know you're lurking. Y'all are just voyeurs, aren't ya?)
No really, I do love and appreciate all of you. Thank you for your support and suggestions for my quandry. Actually for all of your support. Period. It means a lot to me.
Maybe I don't have the gizillion hits or comments like some of my friends have, and they know who they are, but I love the ever growing faithful,loyal readers I do have. I'll take QUALITY over QUANTITY everytime!
"Thank you for your support!" (a la, Bartles & James. remember those commercials?)
Update on the Shayda Incident: I think I will nail them tomorrow (Friday) if I can get them together. I will of course let you all know how the "shit" hit the fan. haha. Why am I laughing? Now where the hell is my Kevlar suit of armor and helmet?
PS: How do y'all like my new outfit, hmmmm???? Tell me I'm pretty.
I just want to say I love my readers. (Even you that don't post, it's ok, sorta, I know you're lurking. Y'all are just voyeurs, aren't ya?)
No really, I do love and appreciate all of you. Thank you for your support and suggestions for my quandry. Actually for all of your support. Period. It means a lot to me.
Maybe I don't have the gizillion hits or comments like some of my friends have, and they know who they are, but I love the ever growing faithful,loyal readers I do have. I'll take QUALITY over QUANTITY everytime!
"Thank you for your support!" (a la, Bartles & James. remember those commercials?)
Update on the Shayda Incident: I think I will nail them tomorrow (Friday) if I can get them together. I will of course let you all know how the "shit" hit the fan. haha. Why am I laughing? Now where the hell is my Kevlar suit of armor and helmet?
PS: How do y'all like my new outfit, hmmmm???? Tell me I'm pretty.
Do You Think I Should Start Charging??
Oh come now… get your mind out of the gutter. (Ok, I realize being in the gutter is awfully fun, but for now, pull it out!)
I was talking about relationship advice. Or advice in general. See, I’m beginning to think I missed my calling. I should have been a psychiatrist or therapist. Even my counselor thinks I’ve missed my calling. He says I’m damn good. Hmmm. That’s sweet, don’t ya think? Well, either that or a stand-up comedienne. Allow me to clarify.
One of my male friends called me to talk to me about his girl problems. I get these calls from him from time to time. He is such a sweetheart… we have so much in common, and I consider him the little brother I never had. (He’s four years my junior) So, my “kid brother” needed some advice from his “big sis”.
Actually, I’m quite flattered. My “kid brother” is one gorgeous piece of man. He also has quite the reputation as a ladies man. Ok, some people think of him as a “ho”. But that simply isn’t true. If people ONLY knew!! I think it’s just rumors spread by jealous people. It’s just that he has so much going for him… looks, education, family ties (here a BIG thing!), money… and oodles and oodles of CHARM. He oozes charm. He is a true gentleman. His situation reminds me of the stories I have read about “The Season” that used to be held in England up until about a hundred years or so ago. (I mean for all I know it still goes on… but not with the same finesses as in days gone by.) The Season was an occasion that Society would pamper, preen, and parade their sacrifices-ahem!- I meant to say their daughters of marriageable age before the eligible men of the Haute Ton. Its affectionate nickname was “the Marriage Mart”. Prime Male Real Estate would be such a man as my “Kid Brother.” The ambitious mama’s trying to shove their daughters in front of these men to try and gain their notice and hopefully make an advantageous match. Anyhoo… there is one slight problem. He can be such a dork when the relationship is going well, the chickenshit.
So he calls me for advice. We talk for about, oh, 30- 45 minutes. And this makes me experience a hidden memory….
The first night I met Z, he was …well, talking about his relationship that just ended. Blah blah blah. The whole damn night. Endlessly. All the while checking ME out.
That week had been MY week. I had a record five male friends coming to me looking for relationship advice. Five of them came to me. God alone knows how many times each, asking for advice on how they had managed to forget EVERYTHING I had EVER told them previously.(I guess I’m the voice of reason to them? I dunno.) Anyway, so here I sat, the first night I met my friend C’s (my male friend) from college’s brother, listening to his relationship’s downward spiral, wondering to myself, “What IS it about me that makes people confide in me?”
Don’t get me wrong, please! I must admit that I like it that people feel they can confide in me. That something, whatever it is, about me makes people, men or women trust me with their confidences and that they know or sense and trust my advice or opinion. That is really wow, ya know? I’m honored, actually. And if someone tells me to keep it a secret, I will, guaranteed.
Which is a nice segway into the next part of my post.
I, for once, find myself in a bit of a quandary on how to begin, on how to start to broach a subject that is rather sensitive. I’m open to any suggestions you all might have.
I mentioned earlier how I met my husband. His baby brother (who is almost 3 yrs younger than Z) and I were friends in college. I knew “C” for about 8 months before I ever met his brother. C and I had some classes together and were, are, great buddies. If it wasn’t for C, I wouldn’t have my daughter. Ok, granted, I also wouldn’t be the wreck that I am today, but still.
C and I get along so great. What is great, is that we can just sit and laugh like hell together….for HOURS Even when it comes to disciplining Arianna, C has always backed me up, supported me, more so than his brother, my husband, ever has. He has felt I was in the right, when my hubby and MIL were interfering, he would help me put my foot down. We have a great relationship, always have. I don’t remember us either exchanging negative words or angry with each other. If we were angry, we’d just kind of stay out of each other’s way till we got over our respective huffs.
Some of you may wonder why I didn’t end up with that brother instead, if we clicked so well. Well darlings, the fact is, C is gay. I’ve known this, sensed it, way before he ever admitted it to me. And he was NOT some effeminate flaming gay either. A more manly man – and gorgeously exotic- you’d never guess that he was gay! Beautifully chiseled features like a statue…. Great bone structure, square masculine face, high cheekbones, luscious full lips, and strong brow. Great blinding smile and an infectious laugh. His mother, and 3 of his 6 siblings DID NOT KNOW HE WAS GAY. STILL DON”T, in fact. Well, monster knows NOW. Like as recently as a month ago.
When I got married, we lived together with C and their monster, erm mother. We lived together for a few years before he moved off by himself to New York to pursue his career. Ok, enough with the background.
My quandary. Well, C, after some long, hard soul searching came to a conclusion that he was just not satisfied living his life as a gay man. In the whole gay scene. He was sort of in limbo. This was about 2 years ago, I suppose, maybe a little less. He did the whole psychological evaluation in two different countries… USA and Iran. (Just to keep things orderly and cover his ass, pardon the pun) Both came up with the same conclusion HE had come up with.
He is a heterosexual woman trapped in a man’s body.
So therefore, he eventually began taking hormone replacement therapy, and the steps required at the beginning of the transition from male to female. Yeah, that’s right, he is in the process of becoming a she. (Yes, Costrina, this is who you think it is.)
First time he visited after starting the hormones (didn’t tell anyone about it, BTW), I noticed, when we were swimming, that his chest was completely different. Before he always had amazing Man Pecs. Now, they were completely different shape and, well, bigger a bit. I noticed, he had a slight flaring of hips also. Nothing real obvious, but it was there. (Oi! Look, I’m just real observant. Honest. I notice EVERYTHING and store it away like a squirrel stores nuts for winter. A friend of mine said I have a mind like a steel trap!) So. Next trip, two months later, I really noticed some differences, and he confided in me when I mentioned my observations to him what he was up to. It was a relief, believe me, for him to tell SOMEONE. He didn’t tell my husband, his brother, which they are so close and always have been. He told me. ME! Wow. Dayum.
It became my duty to tell my husband. To break the news, because frankly, C was scared of his reaction. Not that Z is the Macho man older brother or anything. That is the Firstborn and oldest brother. He is a wackadoo. Nice, but… a wackadoo. Anyhow. Later, after C left, I got around to telling Z. This is how I did it.
“honey, you know how you always said you wished you had a little sister?” he said “yeah” I said, “um, well, sometimes, you should be careful what you wish for, cause your wish has been granted.”. He looked at me and then I said “C is and has been taking medications for some time now, female hormones, and has decided to change his gender to be a woman. He is happy and at peace with his decision”.
Now, Transexuals, (what C is) is totally different from Transvestites and Drag Queens. Ok? Transvestites and Drag Queens want to look like women and live as women, but never actually BECOME women. They are gay men that like to look like women. Transexuals were born the wrong sex. Even when C did blood hormone work, he had more female hormones before starting hormone therapy than he should have. Mentally, he was a hetero female. Got that? Good. Now then…….
My Fucking quandary now? Apparently, I did such a good job with my husband, and fixing the botch up job that my husband did telling their mother last month, that C has asked me to break it to the two sisters here. OH Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!!
Ok. I’m flattered that “she” (referred to from now on as she or Shayda, her new name when she is done, cause, well, everyone calls her “ma’am” now and “Miss”) trusts ME to break this news to her family. Really. But this is where it gets interesting.
See, there are a few, itsy bitsy snags. I told her sure, I’d do it when she’s done her gender reassignment surgery (translation: when she has removed some of her male equipment and turned the rest into FEMALE equipment) ie: when it’s too late for her family to bitch and nag and do anything about it. NOW she has decided she wants them to know now, before, cause she plans to hopefully get it done in the next 6 months or so. They are nagging for her to visit here, and she won’t come again. She wants them to understand why, I guess, which IS fair.
Regarding those “snags”. The elder of the two sisters, apparently is aware that Shayda is gay, she THINKS. This sister, “S” is also quite intelligent and now that she is older, more open-minded. She is also well traveled and wise. (she is also not a DAMN thing like her mother and is proud to say it.) I don’t honestly foresee a problem with this one. I can talk frankly and openly with her to some degree. She won’t like it probably, but I don’t think she will go apeshit and lose her mind.
I wish I could say as much for her younger sister. Younger sister, ‘N’ is exactly 1 year younger than “S”. N is 10 years older than my husband. She is also extremely narrow minded, ridiculously so, not very “quick”, stubborn, self-centered, and, well, a more friendly version of her MOTHER. Yup, Monster’s mini-me. N is a ball of laughs though, usually. She also has severe panic disorder. One more thing. She is EXTREMELY HOMOPHOBIC. (are you beginning to see my problem now?) I mean, she HATES and doesn’t understand this at all. (To give you an idea: when she heard Z wanted to marry me, she was against it, cause she thought all western women were whores and slutty, like what she sees on tv and what she has heard.. I didn’t say that, I’m just repeating what I was told. Ok? People that don’t know, judge our country by shows like Jerry Springer, Rikki Lake, etc... and Melrose Place and those kind of things, understand? They just don’t know better. Just like a lot of Westerners think all Arabs live in the desert in tents and ride camels, while in fact, they drive Huge Mercedes’, BMW’s, Hummers, Rolls Royce’s, Jags, Ferrari’s, etc… and live in HUGE freaking OPULENT mansions with servants up the ying-yang! See what I mean?)
About N. One other little problem. Due to the fact that in her eyes, her mother is next to God and is never wrong, she believes every little lie she hears about me, and, well, needless to say, hasn’t spoken or even LOOKED at me for a year now. You know why? Cause the first day of school, (her daughter goes to Ari’s school too) she had agreed to pick Ari up from school (we live in the same compound also), but no one had bothered to tell me. I thought Z would get Ari from school that day. Needless to say, I got a call from the school nurse teling me that she was feeling very ill, and nauseous and to come get Ari from school. I went and told this to my then new boss, and he let me go. On my way, I called Z, and told him I was going to get her and take her to the Doc. He said nothing). He also didn’t call his sister to tell her that Ari was already gone home early cause she was sick, apparently. By the time I finally got Ari home, I had just sat down, exhausted, N called me SCREAMING. I was confused. Why didn’t anyone tell her Ari wasn’t there, she had been waiting in the parking lot for 15 minutes, etc.. Shriek, shriek, scream. Me, confused. I tossed the phone at Z after talking to her didn’t work. Apparently this all became my fault. Great. Since then, no talkie, no lookie. This is the woman that when her foot was broken and she was HOUSERIDDEN, I would go over every day and keep her company, entertain her, make her laugh, dance for her, and bring her special treats. When I went on vacation, I brought her a shitload of gifts. I kept thinking about her stuck in her damn chair with that cast, with her leg elevated while I was on vacation, and would find myself buying things for her that I thought would cheer her up.
N has no idea that Shayda is gay. How the HELL am I gonna tell her, when she isn’t talking to me, that her brother will shortly become her sister?
Ideally, I want to get them together and spring it on them at once. Get it over with. Shayda wants them to know… like NOW.
How the hell do I tell N that her brother, her baby brother is the very thing that she loathes, despises and doesn’t understand?? That it is too late to turn back now, even if Shayda wanted to, which she doesn’t.
Shayda told me that if they cannot accept this change, then she is ready to cut them out of her life, and to make sure they know it. She also knows, since I have told her, that no matter where I live, wherever my home is, she will always be welcome in it. She knew it without me saying.
How do I tell both sisters that the person is the same, just the packaging is different? (Other than saying just that?)
Somebody help me! (Sooner, rather than later, please!) I’m really open to suggestions. And I will answer whatever question may be in your mind too. I might have to do this tomorrow night. Or Friday.
I just know N is going to freak out on my ass. I just know, KNOW it. Ugh. I’m SO not in the mood for her shit, either.
Hell, I DEFINETLY need to start charging.
Oh come now… get your mind out of the gutter. (Ok, I realize being in the gutter is awfully fun, but for now, pull it out!)
I was talking about relationship advice. Or advice in general. See, I’m beginning to think I missed my calling. I should have been a psychiatrist or therapist. Even my counselor thinks I’ve missed my calling. He says I’m damn good. Hmmm. That’s sweet, don’t ya think? Well, either that or a stand-up comedienne. Allow me to clarify.
One of my male friends called me to talk to me about his girl problems. I get these calls from him from time to time. He is such a sweetheart… we have so much in common, and I consider him the little brother I never had. (He’s four years my junior) So, my “kid brother” needed some advice from his “big sis”.
Actually, I’m quite flattered. My “kid brother” is one gorgeous piece of man. He also has quite the reputation as a ladies man. Ok, some people think of him as a “ho”. But that simply isn’t true. If people ONLY knew!! I think it’s just rumors spread by jealous people. It’s just that he has so much going for him… looks, education, family ties (here a BIG thing!), money… and oodles and oodles of CHARM. He oozes charm. He is a true gentleman. His situation reminds me of the stories I have read about “The Season” that used to be held in England up until about a hundred years or so ago. (I mean for all I know it still goes on… but not with the same finesses as in days gone by.) The Season was an occasion that Society would pamper, preen, and parade their sacrifices-ahem!- I meant to say their daughters of marriageable age before the eligible men of the Haute Ton. Its affectionate nickname was “the Marriage Mart”. Prime Male Real Estate would be such a man as my “Kid Brother.” The ambitious mama’s trying to shove their daughters in front of these men to try and gain their notice and hopefully make an advantageous match. Anyhoo… there is one slight problem. He can be such a dork when the relationship is going well, the chickenshit.
So he calls me for advice. We talk for about, oh, 30- 45 minutes. And this makes me experience a hidden memory….
The first night I met Z, he was …well, talking about his relationship that just ended. Blah blah blah. The whole damn night. Endlessly. All the while checking ME out.
That week had been MY week. I had a record five male friends coming to me looking for relationship advice. Five of them came to me. God alone knows how many times each, asking for advice on how they had managed to forget EVERYTHING I had EVER told them previously.(I guess I’m the voice of reason to them? I dunno.) Anyway, so here I sat, the first night I met my friend C’s (my male friend) from college’s brother, listening to his relationship’s downward spiral, wondering to myself, “What IS it about me that makes people confide in me?”
Don’t get me wrong, please! I must admit that I like it that people feel they can confide in me. That something, whatever it is, about me makes people, men or women trust me with their confidences and that they know or sense and trust my advice or opinion. That is really wow, ya know? I’m honored, actually. And if someone tells me to keep it a secret, I will, guaranteed.
Which is a nice segway into the next part of my post.
I, for once, find myself in a bit of a quandary on how to begin, on how to start to broach a subject that is rather sensitive. I’m open to any suggestions you all might have.
I mentioned earlier how I met my husband. His baby brother (who is almost 3 yrs younger than Z) and I were friends in college. I knew “C” for about 8 months before I ever met his brother. C and I had some classes together and were, are, great buddies. If it wasn’t for C, I wouldn’t have my daughter. Ok, granted, I also wouldn’t be the wreck that I am today, but still.
C and I get along so great. What is great, is that we can just sit and laugh like hell together….for HOURS Even when it comes to disciplining Arianna, C has always backed me up, supported me, more so than his brother, my husband, ever has. He has felt I was in the right, when my hubby and MIL were interfering, he would help me put my foot down. We have a great relationship, always have. I don’t remember us either exchanging negative words or angry with each other. If we were angry, we’d just kind of stay out of each other’s way till we got over our respective huffs.
Some of you may wonder why I didn’t end up with that brother instead, if we clicked so well. Well darlings, the fact is, C is gay. I’ve known this, sensed it, way before he ever admitted it to me. And he was NOT some effeminate flaming gay either. A more manly man – and gorgeously exotic- you’d never guess that he was gay! Beautifully chiseled features like a statue…. Great bone structure, square masculine face, high cheekbones, luscious full lips, and strong brow. Great blinding smile and an infectious laugh. His mother, and 3 of his 6 siblings DID NOT KNOW HE WAS GAY. STILL DON”T, in fact. Well, monster knows NOW. Like as recently as a month ago.
When I got married, we lived together with C and their monster, erm mother. We lived together for a few years before he moved off by himself to New York to pursue his career. Ok, enough with the background.
My quandary. Well, C, after some long, hard soul searching came to a conclusion that he was just not satisfied living his life as a gay man. In the whole gay scene. He was sort of in limbo. This was about 2 years ago, I suppose, maybe a little less. He did the whole psychological evaluation in two different countries… USA and Iran. (Just to keep things orderly and cover his ass, pardon the pun) Both came up with the same conclusion HE had come up with.
He is a heterosexual woman trapped in a man’s body.
So therefore, he eventually began taking hormone replacement therapy, and the steps required at the beginning of the transition from male to female. Yeah, that’s right, he is in the process of becoming a she. (Yes, Costrina, this is who you think it is.)
First time he visited after starting the hormones (didn’t tell anyone about it, BTW), I noticed, when we were swimming, that his chest was completely different. Before he always had amazing Man Pecs. Now, they were completely different shape and, well, bigger a bit. I noticed, he had a slight flaring of hips also. Nothing real obvious, but it was there. (Oi! Look, I’m just real observant. Honest. I notice EVERYTHING and store it away like a squirrel stores nuts for winter. A friend of mine said I have a mind like a steel trap!) So. Next trip, two months later, I really noticed some differences, and he confided in me when I mentioned my observations to him what he was up to. It was a relief, believe me, for him to tell SOMEONE. He didn’t tell my husband, his brother, which they are so close and always have been. He told me. ME! Wow. Dayum.
It became my duty to tell my husband. To break the news, because frankly, C was scared of his reaction. Not that Z is the Macho man older brother or anything. That is the Firstborn and oldest brother. He is a wackadoo. Nice, but… a wackadoo. Anyhow. Later, after C left, I got around to telling Z. This is how I did it.
“honey, you know how you always said you wished you had a little sister?” he said “yeah” I said, “um, well, sometimes, you should be careful what you wish for, cause your wish has been granted.”. He looked at me and then I said “C is and has been taking medications for some time now, female hormones, and has decided to change his gender to be a woman. He is happy and at peace with his decision”.
Now, Transexuals, (what C is) is totally different from Transvestites and Drag Queens. Ok? Transvestites and Drag Queens want to look like women and live as women, but never actually BECOME women. They are gay men that like to look like women. Transexuals were born the wrong sex. Even when C did blood hormone work, he had more female hormones before starting hormone therapy than he should have. Mentally, he was a hetero female. Got that? Good. Now then…….
My Fucking quandary now? Apparently, I did such a good job with my husband, and fixing the botch up job that my husband did telling their mother last month, that C has asked me to break it to the two sisters here. OH Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!!
Ok. I’m flattered that “she” (referred to from now on as she or Shayda, her new name when she is done, cause, well, everyone calls her “ma’am” now and “Miss”) trusts ME to break this news to her family. Really. But this is where it gets interesting.
See, there are a few, itsy bitsy snags. I told her sure, I’d do it when she’s done her gender reassignment surgery (translation: when she has removed some of her male equipment and turned the rest into FEMALE equipment) ie: when it’s too late for her family to bitch and nag and do anything about it. NOW she has decided she wants them to know now, before, cause she plans to hopefully get it done in the next 6 months or so. They are nagging for her to visit here, and she won’t come again. She wants them to understand why, I guess, which IS fair.
Regarding those “snags”. The elder of the two sisters, apparently is aware that Shayda is gay, she THINKS. This sister, “S” is also quite intelligent and now that she is older, more open-minded. She is also well traveled and wise. (she is also not a DAMN thing like her mother and is proud to say it.) I don’t honestly foresee a problem with this one. I can talk frankly and openly with her to some degree. She won’t like it probably, but I don’t think she will go apeshit and lose her mind.
I wish I could say as much for her younger sister. Younger sister, ‘N’ is exactly 1 year younger than “S”. N is 10 years older than my husband. She is also extremely narrow minded, ridiculously so, not very “quick”, stubborn, self-centered, and, well, a more friendly version of her MOTHER. Yup, Monster’s mini-me. N is a ball of laughs though, usually. She also has severe panic disorder. One more thing. She is EXTREMELY HOMOPHOBIC. (are you beginning to see my problem now?) I mean, she HATES and doesn’t understand this at all. (To give you an idea: when she heard Z wanted to marry me, she was against it, cause she thought all western women were whores and slutty, like what she sees on tv and what she has heard.. I didn’t say that, I’m just repeating what I was told. Ok? People that don’t know, judge our country by shows like Jerry Springer, Rikki Lake, etc... and Melrose Place and those kind of things, understand? They just don’t know better. Just like a lot of Westerners think all Arabs live in the desert in tents and ride camels, while in fact, they drive Huge Mercedes’, BMW’s, Hummers, Rolls Royce’s, Jags, Ferrari’s, etc… and live in HUGE freaking OPULENT mansions with servants up the ying-yang! See what I mean?)
About N. One other little problem. Due to the fact that in her eyes, her mother is next to God and is never wrong, she believes every little lie she hears about me, and, well, needless to say, hasn’t spoken or even LOOKED at me for a year now. You know why? Cause the first day of school, (her daughter goes to Ari’s school too) she had agreed to pick Ari up from school (we live in the same compound also), but no one had bothered to tell me. I thought Z would get Ari from school that day. Needless to say, I got a call from the school nurse teling me that she was feeling very ill, and nauseous and to come get Ari from school. I went and told this to my then new boss, and he let me go. On my way, I called Z, and told him I was going to get her and take her to the Doc. He said nothing). He also didn’t call his sister to tell her that Ari was already gone home early cause she was sick, apparently. By the time I finally got Ari home, I had just sat down, exhausted, N called me SCREAMING. I was confused. Why didn’t anyone tell her Ari wasn’t there, she had been waiting in the parking lot for 15 minutes, etc.. Shriek, shriek, scream. Me, confused. I tossed the phone at Z after talking to her didn’t work. Apparently this all became my fault. Great. Since then, no talkie, no lookie. This is the woman that when her foot was broken and she was HOUSERIDDEN, I would go over every day and keep her company, entertain her, make her laugh, dance for her, and bring her special treats. When I went on vacation, I brought her a shitload of gifts. I kept thinking about her stuck in her damn chair with that cast, with her leg elevated while I was on vacation, and would find myself buying things for her that I thought would cheer her up.
N has no idea that Shayda is gay. How the HELL am I gonna tell her, when she isn’t talking to me, that her brother will shortly become her sister?
Ideally, I want to get them together and spring it on them at once. Get it over with. Shayda wants them to know… like NOW.
How the hell do I tell N that her brother, her baby brother is the very thing that she loathes, despises and doesn’t understand?? That it is too late to turn back now, even if Shayda wanted to, which she doesn’t.
Shayda told me that if they cannot accept this change, then she is ready to cut them out of her life, and to make sure they know it. She also knows, since I have told her, that no matter where I live, wherever my home is, she will always be welcome in it. She knew it without me saying.
How do I tell both sisters that the person is the same, just the packaging is different? (Other than saying just that?)
Somebody help me! (Sooner, rather than later, please!) I’m really open to suggestions. And I will answer whatever question may be in your mind too. I might have to do this tomorrow night. Or Friday.
I just know N is going to freak out on my ass. I just know, KNOW it. Ugh. I’m SO not in the mood for her shit, either.
Hell, I DEFINETLY need to start charging.
8/31/2004
GOAL!!!!!!
Ah yes, I have achieved one of the many goals I have set for myself in my life. Not a big goal by any means, but a goal nonetheless!
The realization that I had done so quite took me by surprise. It was sudden. Perhaps it will seem silly to you, but to me? It’s quite the big deal.
I vowed to myself at a young age that when I have kids (hah! Plural, YES! KIDS), that I will be the “cool” mom. I always wanted to be the cool mom. Not the stuffy "SHE NEVER LETS HER KID DO ANTHING" mom. The mom that the kids don’t mind having around. The mom that the girls hang with and talk to, even my daughter's friends. The Kool-Aid Mom. Ya know what I mean?
So, yesterday I realized something. Arianna’s friends are coming over every day….and hanging out with me in the kitchen as I cook!! Or if I’m watching TV, they come sit with me and chat and watch with me. Ari keeps calling them to come to her room and play. They still stay with me in the kitchen or living room. Finally Ari joins us. This has been going on for a while lately. More and more. They talk to me about EVERYTHING. You name it! We laugh and joke around, and then I talk to them seriously also. I actually entice them to stay and have lunch with us. Yes, even the picky eater, Sophie, the littlest sister with the dimples that slay me, loved the lunch I made the other day and woofed it up!
Finally, I have to shoo the girls to go play and they go shuffle off. Even when I’m sitting here blogging on the computer, they come hang out and chit chat. Even when I get angry at finding the room looking like a tornado has come through it and have to put my foot down, I am fair and nice about it. They know I’m being fair. And if they prove themselves to me, I lift the “restriction”. Maybe that’s the difference? They know I’m all about being fair? They even come across the street to help me settle their “disputes”. (Come on, all 5 of the gang are pre-teen hormonal!)
Before the three sisters went to a wedding the other night, they came to show me their outfits. Then it hit me! I’ve become the cool mom!
Yaaaaaaaaaaaay! It is such a good feeling. Really. I’m the cool mom! I’m the cool mom! Wooohoooo!
Maybe it is a simple enough thing, but it’s important to me.
Ah yes, I have achieved one of the many goals I have set for myself in my life. Not a big goal by any means, but a goal nonetheless!
The realization that I had done so quite took me by surprise. It was sudden. Perhaps it will seem silly to you, but to me? It’s quite the big deal.
I vowed to myself at a young age that when I have kids (hah! Plural, YES! KIDS), that I will be the “cool” mom. I always wanted to be the cool mom. Not the stuffy "SHE NEVER LETS HER KID DO ANTHING" mom. The mom that the kids don’t mind having around. The mom that the girls hang with and talk to, even my daughter's friends. The Kool-Aid Mom. Ya know what I mean?
So, yesterday I realized something. Arianna’s friends are coming over every day….and hanging out with me in the kitchen as I cook!! Or if I’m watching TV, they come sit with me and chat and watch with me. Ari keeps calling them to come to her room and play. They still stay with me in the kitchen or living room. Finally Ari joins us. This has been going on for a while lately. More and more. They talk to me about EVERYTHING. You name it! We laugh and joke around, and then I talk to them seriously also. I actually entice them to stay and have lunch with us. Yes, even the picky eater, Sophie, the littlest sister with the dimples that slay me, loved the lunch I made the other day and woofed it up!
Finally, I have to shoo the girls to go play and they go shuffle off. Even when I’m sitting here blogging on the computer, they come hang out and chit chat. Even when I get angry at finding the room looking like a tornado has come through it and have to put my foot down, I am fair and nice about it. They know I’m being fair. And if they prove themselves to me, I lift the “restriction”. Maybe that’s the difference? They know I’m all about being fair? They even come across the street to help me settle their “disputes”. (Come on, all 5 of the gang are pre-teen hormonal!)
Before the three sisters went to a wedding the other night, they came to show me their outfits. Then it hit me! I’ve become the cool mom!
Yaaaaaaaaaaaay! It is such a good feeling. Really. I’m the cool mom! I’m the cool mom! Wooohoooo!
Maybe it is a simple enough thing, but it’s important to me.
8/29/2004
I WILL SURVIVE
Well, after my last post, it would figure that what was needed STAT to cheer me up was a dirty little ditty. I wouldn't say it cheered me up, per se, but I DID laugh my ass off... and sing it about 4 times out loud!
SO.......Clear your throat and sing out loud! LOUD AND PROUD!!!(cause you KNOW I did!)
I dare ya... actually I DOUBLE DOG DARE YA!!!!!!
I Will Survive
At first I was afraid, I was petrified..
When you said you had 10 inches
Lord I almost died,
But I'd spent oh so many yrs just waiting for a man that long, That I grew strong, And I knew that I could take you on. .
But there you are,
Another lie,
I was ready for a big mac and you've bought me a French fry,
I should have known it was bullsh*t,
Just a sad pathetic dream,
Should have known there was no anaconda lurking in those jeans.
Go on now go,
Walk out the door,
Don't you promise me 10 inches then turn up with only 4,
Weren't you a prat to think I wouldn't catch you out,
Don't you know we' re only joking when we say size doesn't count.
(Chorus)
I will survive, I will survive,
Cos as long as I have batteries, My sex life is gonna thrive,
I will always have good sex with a handful of latex,
I will survive, I will survive. . .hey . hey
It took all my self control not to laugh out loud,
When I saw your little weiner standing tall and proud,
But to hell with all your ego's ,and to hell with all your needs,
Now I'm saving all my lovin for a cordless multispeed,
(Chorus)
Go on now go, Just make a dash,
Last time I saw a prick that small was I watching Gladstone run nude hash,
I should have asked for confirmation,Should have asked for referees,
Then I wouldn't have you waving that wee winky thing at me.
(Chorus)
Go on now go, Just hit the track,
Don't you bring me home no tiddlers,
Cos I'll always throw them back,
The only thing that I could do with a prick as small as yours,
Is to stick it with a toothpick and dip it in some sauce.
(Chorus)
Go on now go,
Get out of my sight,
I'm going back to my appliance,
Cos I know it's length is right,
And if I ever see your tiny winky at my door,
You'll be counting up your inches as you pick them off the floor.
Well, after my last post, it would figure that what was needed STAT to cheer me up was a dirty little ditty. I wouldn't say it cheered me up, per se, but I DID laugh my ass off... and sing it about 4 times out loud!
SO.......Clear your throat and sing out loud! LOUD AND PROUD!!!(cause you KNOW I did!)
I dare ya... actually I DOUBLE DOG DARE YA!!!!!!
I Will Survive
At first I was afraid, I was petrified..
When you said you had 10 inches
Lord I almost died,
But I'd spent oh so many yrs just waiting for a man that long, That I grew strong, And I knew that I could take you on. .
But there you are,
Another lie,
I was ready for a big mac and you've bought me a French fry,
I should have known it was bullsh*t,
Just a sad pathetic dream,
Should have known there was no anaconda lurking in those jeans.
Go on now go,
Walk out the door,
Don't you promise me 10 inches then turn up with only 4,
Weren't you a prat to think I wouldn't catch you out,
Don't you know we' re only joking when we say size doesn't count.
(Chorus)
I will survive, I will survive,
Cos as long as I have batteries, My sex life is gonna thrive,
I will always have good sex with a handful of latex,
I will survive, I will survive. . .hey . hey
It took all my self control not to laugh out loud,
When I saw your little weiner standing tall and proud,
But to hell with all your ego's ,and to hell with all your needs,
Now I'm saving all my lovin for a cordless multispeed,
(Chorus)
Go on now go, Just make a dash,
Last time I saw a prick that small was I watching Gladstone run nude hash,
I should have asked for confirmation,Should have asked for referees,
Then I wouldn't have you waving that wee winky thing at me.
(Chorus)
Go on now go, Just hit the track,
Don't you bring me home no tiddlers,
Cos I'll always throw them back,
The only thing that I could do with a prick as small as yours,
Is to stick it with a toothpick and dip it in some sauce.
(Chorus)
Go on now go,
Get out of my sight,
I'm going back to my appliance,
Cos I know it's length is right,
And if I ever see your tiny winky at my door,
You'll be counting up your inches as you pick them off the floor.
Here We Go AGAIN
It’s BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCK!
There is some sneaky stuff going on around here and my whole day has just been ruined. Maybe my whole week.
Monster arrives back – YES, I SAID BACK! - Tomorrow. Monday. August 30. Guess when I found out about it? Guess HOW I found out about it?
When: JUST. Fucking. NOW. How: Well, I had made Iranian food called Kotlet for supper. Z came home early. We ate. As I was clearing the table he walked in and said it was good and thank you. THEN, he got his typical sneaky look on his face and said “Mom will love this tomorrow”. I dropped the platter in my hand on the counter in shock and I looked at him with my mouth gaping open, eyes popped wide in disbelief and said “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY???” Z repeated it, with a BIG ASS SMILE ON HIS FACE, loving the look of misery that stole over my face. I asked him “are you serious?” as my shoulders slumped as he said “yeah!!”. Then he started LAUGHING at me. (for those of you wondering, yes, he yet breathes, but I can’t make any promises for how much longer if he keeps this shit up)
My God, I feel like I’ve been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. It’s as if a huge dark cloud has encompassed my whole head. The wall of depression that descended on me was instantaneous.
Here we go again…. Dammit all to hell.
Her spying on me, reporting my every move (I shit you not, y’all. A blow by blow from the second I get up (time) until Z gets the hell home from work, where she is waiting with her report. How long I take a shower what I ate, drank, (in minute detail- yes, even quantity)how many phone calls I get, make, how long they lasted, who it seemed I was talking to, how many times I left the house, where I went, if I came back with shopping bags, from where (no, she can’t read, but she knows the logos or the color of the bag)and how many of them. What I said, what I did. IF I watched TV, for how long, if I read, if I listen to music, if I sing. How many times I might change clothes and what and WHY? Every.damn.thing.I.do. Every.move. I.make. (Cue the Police song “Every Breath You Take” here)
You think I’m joking, don’t you? Well darlings, unfortunately, I’m NOT. I wish to GOD I was. As a matter of fact, I feel seriously nauseous. Now my ulcer will start acting up again and Acid Reflux. Gah.
The report, by the way, is NOT only for Z. It is also given as Breaking News Updates to my two sister-in-laws that live in Bahrain, by telephone throughout the day. “Az” (mom of the triplets and her hubby), AND my damn NEIGHBORS. Yes, my neighbors. And whomever ELSE might just happen to dial her phone number.
Oh yes, tomorrow also marks the return of: her stealing my belongings, (and now Arianna’s also since they wear the same shoe size for now, but I’ll get to that later.) hiding things from me, purposely “accidentally” breaking my things, throwing food I cook in the trash. Heaping curses on me (fucking great, and my allergies are acting up, which means with every sneeze, I will get to hear, not “God Bless You” but “Inshallah bimerree” (translation: “God willing, you die”) among many others. If I just walk past her room through the hallway, saying nothing.. I hear any number of things in Persian: “stupid bitch”, or the translated to English “ hope they take you to the undertaker soon” or “Hope they throw dirt on your head(once you’re in your grave) soon”… always soon. I must say, Persian curses are quite creative. This is just a sample…. There are many, MANY more that I get daily. I get at least 10-15 per day, on a SLOW day. Lets see, that’s say, 10, @365 days in a year, that comes to: 3,650 curses a year, times 15 years, that comes to 54,750 curses. That isn’t counting when she is in one of her rant moods, which is often, I’m just giving you a low idea here. I can get as many as 15 in a matter of minutes sometimes… so the actual number is actually HIGHER than 54,750. damn.
More of her talking shit about me to my child, my husbands relatives (and there is a LOAD of them in this country) , neighbors, again… TO MY CHILD.
The only bright side to her coming back tomorrow? Arianna will get her sandals back. See, MY mom had sent Ari her “Summer Care Package” with shorts, tank tops, etc… and flip flops and sandals, and of course, the other Nana type stuff… candy, hair stuff, blah blah. I had been telling Ari to wear one particular pair lately and she said, “THEY AREN”T HERE!” I looked and looked everywhere for them. No. Then I got C, (who was in Iran with Monster at her house) Z’s younger brother/sister (He is currently in transition from a male to a woman) on IM one day and asked “her” to look for these particular sandals that were BRAND NEW and that Ari had worn a total of: ONCE. 2 days later, Z got the IM from C that yup, said sandals were being worn in Iran. (this burned my ass, let me tell you. IS NOTHING SACRED?)
The family here is just now all starting to get along again, and now she will come and start fights between everyone. Sigh.
I need a damn job ASAP so at least I won’t be here with her very much.
And she talks NONSTOP about nothing at all. If I’m on the computer, she comes and talks incessantly and tries to see what I’m doing staring at the screen. Ditto for when I try to read (which I usually give up and go hide in my room and read now with the door shut) or watch TV. And no, earplugs don’t work. I’ve tried. She still follows me around the house. Yap. Yap, yapppppp.
As is, she has driven “C” to the point of nervous breakdown in Iran. (Hah! Wimp. Only after 2weeks!) He/She has said so… countless times. They’ve even been in massive fights. She went so far as to change the locks on the house and not GIVE him/her a copy of the key so that when she leaves, it can’t be used. C and Z helped her BUY the damn house (for her to fucking LIVE IN , but she doesn’t want to) and the furniture and stuff in it. C bought washer dryer, TV, satellite dish, computer, beds, etc, etc, etc, for the house. Now she’s locked him/her OUT!? C has been paying the phone bill, elect, water, etc… while living there, and leaving enough paid in advance for when gone working. THAT’S her kid!
Z just walked by, still laughing and snickering. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. This is not funny. Why the hell does he think my unhappiness is amusing? I don’t understand at all. I just don’t get it.
I will admit. I have had at least 6 complete and total breakdowns (not joking here) in the past 10 years directly related to her. Not treated, not seen by a doctor. No medicine. Just I had to somehow “heal” and deal from them on my own. Z has been present at each one. So yes, he knows and is aware they have happened. Damn, but I’m so tired of all this. The thought of it exhausts me.
Well, at least now I have some “happy pills” to numb me.
If I were a horse, someone would shoot me in the head, wouldn’t they?
It’s BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCK!
There is some sneaky stuff going on around here and my whole day has just been ruined. Maybe my whole week.
Monster arrives back – YES, I SAID BACK! - Tomorrow. Monday. August 30. Guess when I found out about it? Guess HOW I found out about it?
When: JUST. Fucking. NOW. How: Well, I had made Iranian food called Kotlet for supper. Z came home early. We ate. As I was clearing the table he walked in and said it was good and thank you. THEN, he got his typical sneaky look on his face and said “Mom will love this tomorrow”. I dropped the platter in my hand on the counter in shock and I looked at him with my mouth gaping open, eyes popped wide in disbelief and said “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY???” Z repeated it, with a BIG ASS SMILE ON HIS FACE, loving the look of misery that stole over my face. I asked him “are you serious?” as my shoulders slumped as he said “yeah!!”. Then he started LAUGHING at me. (for those of you wondering, yes, he yet breathes, but I can’t make any promises for how much longer if he keeps this shit up)
My God, I feel like I’ve been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. It’s as if a huge dark cloud has encompassed my whole head. The wall of depression that descended on me was instantaneous.
Here we go again…. Dammit all to hell.
Her spying on me, reporting my every move (I shit you not, y’all. A blow by blow from the second I get up (time) until Z gets the hell home from work, where she is waiting with her report. How long I take a shower what I ate, drank, (in minute detail- yes, even quantity)how many phone calls I get, make, how long they lasted, who it seemed I was talking to, how many times I left the house, where I went, if I came back with shopping bags, from where (no, she can’t read, but she knows the logos or the color of the bag)and how many of them. What I said, what I did. IF I watched TV, for how long, if I read, if I listen to music, if I sing. How many times I might change clothes and what and WHY? Every.damn.thing.I.do. Every.move. I.make. (Cue the Police song “Every Breath You Take” here)
You think I’m joking, don’t you? Well darlings, unfortunately, I’m NOT. I wish to GOD I was. As a matter of fact, I feel seriously nauseous. Now my ulcer will start acting up again and Acid Reflux. Gah.
The report, by the way, is NOT only for Z. It is also given as Breaking News Updates to my two sister-in-laws that live in Bahrain, by telephone throughout the day. “Az” (mom of the triplets and her hubby), AND my damn NEIGHBORS. Yes, my neighbors. And whomever ELSE might just happen to dial her phone number.
Oh yes, tomorrow also marks the return of: her stealing my belongings, (and now Arianna’s also since they wear the same shoe size for now, but I’ll get to that later.) hiding things from me, purposely “accidentally” breaking my things, throwing food I cook in the trash. Heaping curses on me (fucking great, and my allergies are acting up, which means with every sneeze, I will get to hear, not “God Bless You” but “Inshallah bimerree” (translation: “God willing, you die”) among many others. If I just walk past her room through the hallway, saying nothing.. I hear any number of things in Persian: “stupid bitch”, or the translated to English “ hope they take you to the undertaker soon” or “Hope they throw dirt on your head(once you’re in your grave) soon”… always soon. I must say, Persian curses are quite creative. This is just a sample…. There are many, MANY more that I get daily. I get at least 10-15 per day, on a SLOW day. Lets see, that’s say, 10, @365 days in a year, that comes to: 3,650 curses a year, times 15 years, that comes to 54,750 curses. That isn’t counting when she is in one of her rant moods, which is often, I’m just giving you a low idea here. I can get as many as 15 in a matter of minutes sometimes… so the actual number is actually HIGHER than 54,750. damn.
More of her talking shit about me to my child, my husbands relatives (and there is a LOAD of them in this country) , neighbors, again… TO MY CHILD.
The only bright side to her coming back tomorrow? Arianna will get her sandals back. See, MY mom had sent Ari her “Summer Care Package” with shorts, tank tops, etc… and flip flops and sandals, and of course, the other Nana type stuff… candy, hair stuff, blah blah. I had been telling Ari to wear one particular pair lately and she said, “THEY AREN”T HERE!” I looked and looked everywhere for them. No. Then I got C, (who was in Iran with Monster at her house) Z’s younger brother/sister (He is currently in transition from a male to a woman) on IM one day and asked “her” to look for these particular sandals that were BRAND NEW and that Ari had worn a total of: ONCE. 2 days later, Z got the IM from C that yup, said sandals were being worn in Iran. (this burned my ass, let me tell you. IS NOTHING SACRED?)
The family here is just now all starting to get along again, and now she will come and start fights between everyone. Sigh.
I need a damn job ASAP so at least I won’t be here with her very much.
And she talks NONSTOP about nothing at all. If I’m on the computer, she comes and talks incessantly and tries to see what I’m doing staring at the screen. Ditto for when I try to read (which I usually give up and go hide in my room and read now with the door shut) or watch TV. And no, earplugs don’t work. I’ve tried. She still follows me around the house. Yap. Yap, yapppppp.
As is, she has driven “C” to the point of nervous breakdown in Iran. (Hah! Wimp. Only after 2weeks!) He/She has said so… countless times. They’ve even been in massive fights. She went so far as to change the locks on the house and not GIVE him/her a copy of the key so that when she leaves, it can’t be used. C and Z helped her BUY the damn house (for her to fucking LIVE IN , but she doesn’t want to) and the furniture and stuff in it. C bought washer dryer, TV, satellite dish, computer, beds, etc, etc, etc, for the house. Now she’s locked him/her OUT!? C has been paying the phone bill, elect, water, etc… while living there, and leaving enough paid in advance for when gone working. THAT’S her kid!
Z just walked by, still laughing and snickering. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. This is not funny. Why the hell does he think my unhappiness is amusing? I don’t understand at all. I just don’t get it.
I will admit. I have had at least 6 complete and total breakdowns (not joking here) in the past 10 years directly related to her. Not treated, not seen by a doctor. No medicine. Just I had to somehow “heal” and deal from them on my own. Z has been present at each one. So yes, he knows and is aware they have happened. Damn, but I’m so tired of all this. The thought of it exhausts me.
Well, at least now I have some “happy pills” to numb me.
If I were a horse, someone would shoot me in the head, wouldn’t they?
8/28/2004
The Flashback
Tonight, Z and I watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It was the first time I watched it from beginning to end. (I can hear your gasps of disbelief all the way the hell over here on the other side of the freaking planet, y'all!)
Ok, how many of you every now and then flash back to your youth?
You! Yes, you! Don't even think of trying to tell me you don't.
I'm sure it happens..... you're listening to the radio and the DJ goes into his own youth and plays something that just triggers the MEMORIES. Whatever the song, you remember the first concert you ever attended.... your first kiss... a school dance...a really great date..your first love... your first... ahem, never mind. You know what I mean!
You get the idea. Same goes for movies. Do you ever watch a movie and something triggers a memoy?
An outfit, shoes (Come on, admit it, you had VANS, didn't you?) legwarmers? Those plastic black bracelets that HAD to be worn at least 50 at a time ! A certain hair cut. A car just like the guy/girl you had a MAJOR crush on in high school or your first car for that matter! The character reminds you that you knew somebody JUST like that?! The jerk math teacher?
Don't you just end up all nostalgic? Could be in a good way, or it makes you sad.
Sure, I admit it. It can make me smile wistfully, or a wee bit sad too. A, maybe a small stroll down memory lane is in order for me.
The song "I just died in your arms tonight" by the Cutting Crew? Remember it? I cannot hear that song without thinking of my first love, David. (Hah! Even Z doesn't know the name of my first love, but I just admitted it to you!) That song was playing every single time we were together by some freaky coincidence. Good times those. He was the good friend, older than me by quite a bit, that somehow turned into somthing more, and it was really a beautiful relationship. Everytime I hear the song, even now 18 years later, I get a smile on my face and think of David for a bit. Nice memories all. A real gentleman, smart as hell with a phenominal memory unlike anything I've ever come across before or since! Funny and caring, considerate, protective and romantic. 6'1, silky jet black really wavy hair and big green eyes... and probably the best kisser ever!!!! Yes, EVER. (sigh!)
I never, ever dated guys from my school. Not once. I went out with guys from OTHER schools... always older than me. Don't ask me why, I just did. Maybe because, even though it was off and on with my moving around, I basically knew majority of these guys since elementary school. Heh, David was WAY out of school for that matter. I suppose that would explain why my husband is 7 years older than me (regardless of the lies he tells people about our age difference!)
Lets see now, enough about my early romantic life! (Sorry darlings!)
Now where was I? Oh yeah! Memory triggers. Yeah, I can't see "The Reflex" video or hear the song by Duran Duran without remembering my first concert, which was Duran Duran. Amazing. They filmed the video for it the night after I went to the concert! Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell"... many a school dance. Any Van Halen song... reminds me of my sister (RIP) Shelly's LUST of David Lee Roth but she would lose her damn mind just thinking about him in the "JUMP" video! "Safety Dance"= rollerskating. Hell, many songs remind me of rollerskating on Friday nights. The Smiths? I got SO busted for going to that concert with my cousin Sandra. Shit. My hair was blonde and she thought it would be cool to put her burgandy hair mousse in my hair for the night and then wash it out when we came home and before I went back home the next day. The concert was amazing! The gutairist got yanked into the crowd when some of the fans in the audience pulled him offstage by the wire that attached his gutair to the amp! Of course, that is nothing compared to the sound Sandra made later than night when I was bent over with my head under the bathtub faucet and she was attempting to shampoo the mousse out of my hair. Lets put it this way.... my hair was.. .erm, pink. Like Bazooka Bubble Gum pink. Boy did I have hell to pay when mama got a load of my hair. U2 and the Cult. Reminds me of a guy Simon I dated. He was great until I introduced him to Sandra. Shithead left me for her. Wham! Madonna.... shall I continue?
One more trip down memory lane, do you mind? Amalah suggested I do this eventually.
I was a good girl when I was younger, in my mid-late teens. (ie: I was not a ho and I didn't do drugs OR smoke and I was always out with the same couple of friends) Mom always (pretty much) always knew where I was. But BOY did I have a blast.
I think I've mentioned that Duran Duran was my very favorite group, even though I liked all music. But I did the think Mom said I would never do. I met them, thanks to David and quite a bit of gumption on my part. When the album Notorious came out... the whole damn album is one big memory for me. The summer of that tour was one I can never forget. Heh. That was a pretty wild summer. I met so many celebrities that summer it's amazing. I was going backstage to concerts. Hanging with Famous (at the time) muscians.... Billy Idol, The Cult (Made me forget ALL about Simon the jerk), Poison (one of my friends started dating one of the guys from Poison). My other friend was a bit of a closet ho (scratch that, she was not a friend in the end I found out, the bitch) , BUT, she had a "relationship" with the new gutairist for Duran, Warren Cucurillo (who was previously with Missing Persons). No, I did not date or DO any famous person. Actually, I liked things the way they were. They liked having me around to talk to, to joke with, (and I was a cutie, so it wasn't THAT) For instance, Kat, the ho, we would take her to Warrens and she would get PISSED when he said over the intercom "Is Cyn there?" I'd say "HI!!!" while she was giving me the look. He'd insist I come up too! showed me his studio at his place, and all, would play gutair for us, (me, still getting fuck off looks from Kat) chat and joke around. I ended up becoming good friends with a VP at Capitol/EMI records too! He was so nice. Kat would be bitchy bragging about "doing" these guys. I said "I'd rather be friends with them then for them to see me as a piece of ass. The difference is, they respect me. They want YOU around for 30 minutes or however long... but they want ME around to hang out with, watch a movie, grab a bite to eat, or just chat. (OK, she was being bitchy, and I can only take so much before I finally give it back). I was actually honored that I was trusted with some of the things they would talk to me about. Trust. They knew they could trust me in an industry where you can't trust anyone. *warm fuzzies*
I wasn't "friends" with EVERYONE.. just the few people I mentioned above.
I was freaked to be in the same room with Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear (and saw them do some things that I won't say I saw them do on my blog) You wanna feel real ugly girls, real fast? Stand in the vicinity of some of the 80's supermodels. Yasmin Le Bon, Christy Turlington... for starters. No matter how pretty you are, I guarantee, you'll feel like ALPO SUPREME. My list of celebreties can go on.... Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder..and on... so I'll stop here, ok?
Maybe not.
Memories. Who would have known that a few years later I'd be engaged? Funny. Glad I did what I did when I did. It was so much damn fun. I autograph hunted a bit also. A total blast!!
Guess who the most gracious actor I met was? George Hamilton. Mr. Tan. haha. He is MUCH better looking in person, such a gentleman, very elegant and well, gracious. And his smile could rival the sun. I knew Matthew Perry before "Friends". I've got a lovely picture of the two of us too! Nice guy.
I later got to feed my Celebrity itch later at the job I had right before I moved here to Bahrain. It was (is) one of the top day spas & salons in LA. Loads of famous people would come.... daily. Cool when they know you by name, no? You know who I absolutely LOVE? Two ladies. Cindy Costner (Kevin' s Ex) and actress Marlee Matlin. When I "told" Marlee goodbye and that I was moving overseas (remember, she is deaf) she gave me the BIGGEST hug and was all sad. Cindy, she is a wonderful woman and very kind when I said goodbye to her also.
You know, it's surreal when I watch movies, MTV or E! Channel (which I LOVE) and I see people on there that I've been face to face with and even talked to. But kinda cool too, cause you know? It causes another flashback and usually a really pleasant memory.
Well, I hope you've enjoyed my little trip down memory lane, or my "Flashback". Maybe, just maybe I'll do a flashback 2, but no promises.
I'm curious, what triggers a flashback for you? I showed you mine, now show me yours.
Tonight, Z and I watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It was the first time I watched it from beginning to end. (I can hear your gasps of disbelief all the way the hell over here on the other side of the freaking planet, y'all!)
Ok, how many of you every now and then flash back to your youth?
You! Yes, you! Don't even think of trying to tell me you don't.
I'm sure it happens..... you're listening to the radio and the DJ goes into his own youth and plays something that just triggers the MEMORIES. Whatever the song, you remember the first concert you ever attended.... your first kiss... a school dance...a really great date..your first love... your first... ahem, never mind. You know what I mean!
You get the idea. Same goes for movies. Do you ever watch a movie and something triggers a memoy?
An outfit, shoes (Come on, admit it, you had VANS, didn't you?) legwarmers? Those plastic black bracelets that HAD to be worn at least 50 at a time ! A certain hair cut. A car just like the guy/girl you had a MAJOR crush on in high school or your first car for that matter! The character reminds you that you knew somebody JUST like that?! The jerk math teacher?
Don't you just end up all nostalgic? Could be in a good way, or it makes you sad.
Sure, I admit it. It can make me smile wistfully, or a wee bit sad too. A, maybe a small stroll down memory lane is in order for me.
The song "I just died in your arms tonight" by the Cutting Crew? Remember it? I cannot hear that song without thinking of my first love, David. (Hah! Even Z doesn't know the name of my first love, but I just admitted it to you!) That song was playing every single time we were together by some freaky coincidence. Good times those. He was the good friend, older than me by quite a bit, that somehow turned into somthing more, and it was really a beautiful relationship. Everytime I hear the song, even now 18 years later, I get a smile on my face and think of David for a bit. Nice memories all. A real gentleman, smart as hell with a phenominal memory unlike anything I've ever come across before or since! Funny and caring, considerate, protective and romantic. 6'1, silky jet black really wavy hair and big green eyes... and probably the best kisser ever!!!! Yes, EVER. (sigh!)
I never, ever dated guys from my school. Not once. I went out with guys from OTHER schools... always older than me. Don't ask me why, I just did. Maybe because, even though it was off and on with my moving around, I basically knew majority of these guys since elementary school. Heh, David was WAY out of school for that matter. I suppose that would explain why my husband is 7 years older than me (regardless of the lies he tells people about our age difference!)
Lets see now, enough about my early romantic life! (Sorry darlings!)
Now where was I? Oh yeah! Memory triggers. Yeah, I can't see "The Reflex" video or hear the song by Duran Duran without remembering my first concert, which was Duran Duran. Amazing. They filmed the video for it the night after I went to the concert! Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell"... many a school dance. Any Van Halen song... reminds me of my sister (RIP) Shelly's LUST of David Lee Roth but she would lose her damn mind just thinking about him in the "JUMP" video! "Safety Dance"= rollerskating. Hell, many songs remind me of rollerskating on Friday nights. The Smiths? I got SO busted for going to that concert with my cousin Sandra. Shit. My hair was blonde and she thought it would be cool to put her burgandy hair mousse in my hair for the night and then wash it out when we came home and before I went back home the next day. The concert was amazing! The gutairist got yanked into the crowd when some of the fans in the audience pulled him offstage by the wire that attached his gutair to the amp! Of course, that is nothing compared to the sound Sandra made later than night when I was bent over with my head under the bathtub faucet and she was attempting to shampoo the mousse out of my hair. Lets put it this way.... my hair was.. .erm, pink. Like Bazooka Bubble Gum pink. Boy did I have hell to pay when mama got a load of my hair. U2 and the Cult. Reminds me of a guy Simon I dated. He was great until I introduced him to Sandra. Shithead left me for her. Wham! Madonna.... shall I continue?
One more trip down memory lane, do you mind? Amalah suggested I do this eventually.
I was a good girl when I was younger, in my mid-late teens. (ie: I was not a ho and I didn't do drugs OR smoke and I was always out with the same couple of friends) Mom always (pretty much) always knew where I was. But BOY did I have a blast.
I think I've mentioned that Duran Duran was my very favorite group, even though I liked all music. But I did the think Mom said I would never do. I met them, thanks to David and quite a bit of gumption on my part. When the album Notorious came out... the whole damn album is one big memory for me. The summer of that tour was one I can never forget. Heh. That was a pretty wild summer. I met so many celebrities that summer it's amazing. I was going backstage to concerts. Hanging with Famous (at the time) muscians.... Billy Idol, The Cult (Made me forget ALL about Simon the jerk), Poison (one of my friends started dating one of the guys from Poison). My other friend was a bit of a closet ho (scratch that, she was not a friend in the end I found out, the bitch) , BUT, she had a "relationship" with the new gutairist for Duran, Warren Cucurillo (who was previously with Missing Persons). No, I did not date or DO any famous person. Actually, I liked things the way they were. They liked having me around to talk to, to joke with, (and I was a cutie, so it wasn't THAT) For instance, Kat, the ho, we would take her to Warrens and she would get PISSED when he said over the intercom "Is Cyn there?" I'd say "HI!!!" while she was giving me the look. He'd insist I come up too! showed me his studio at his place, and all, would play gutair for us, (me, still getting fuck off looks from Kat) chat and joke around. I ended up becoming good friends with a VP at Capitol/EMI records too! He was so nice. Kat would be bitchy bragging about "doing" these guys. I said "I'd rather be friends with them then for them to see me as a piece of ass. The difference is, they respect me. They want YOU around for 30 minutes or however long... but they want ME around to hang out with, watch a movie, grab a bite to eat, or just chat. (OK, she was being bitchy, and I can only take so much before I finally give it back). I was actually honored that I was trusted with some of the things they would talk to me about. Trust. They knew they could trust me in an industry where you can't trust anyone. *warm fuzzies*
I wasn't "friends" with EVERYONE.. just the few people I mentioned above.
I was freaked to be in the same room with Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear (and saw them do some things that I won't say I saw them do on my blog) You wanna feel real ugly girls, real fast? Stand in the vicinity of some of the 80's supermodels. Yasmin Le Bon, Christy Turlington... for starters. No matter how pretty you are, I guarantee, you'll feel like ALPO SUPREME. My list of celebreties can go on.... Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder..and on... so I'll stop here, ok?
Maybe not.
Memories. Who would have known that a few years later I'd be engaged? Funny. Glad I did what I did when I did. It was so much damn fun. I autograph hunted a bit also. A total blast!!
Guess who the most gracious actor I met was? George Hamilton. Mr. Tan. haha. He is MUCH better looking in person, such a gentleman, very elegant and well, gracious. And his smile could rival the sun. I knew Matthew Perry before "Friends". I've got a lovely picture of the two of us too! Nice guy.
I later got to feed my Celebrity itch later at the job I had right before I moved here to Bahrain. It was (is) one of the top day spas & salons in LA. Loads of famous people would come.... daily. Cool when they know you by name, no? You know who I absolutely LOVE? Two ladies. Cindy Costner (Kevin' s Ex) and actress Marlee Matlin. When I "told" Marlee goodbye and that I was moving overseas (remember, she is deaf) she gave me the BIGGEST hug and was all sad. Cindy, she is a wonderful woman and very kind when I said goodbye to her also.
You know, it's surreal when I watch movies, MTV or E! Channel (which I LOVE) and I see people on there that I've been face to face with and even talked to. But kinda cool too, cause you know? It causes another flashback and usually a really pleasant memory.
Well, I hope you've enjoyed my little trip down memory lane, or my "Flashback". Maybe, just maybe I'll do a flashback 2, but no promises.
I'm curious, what triggers a flashback for you? I showed you mine, now show me yours.
8/26/2004
Evidence!
I just had to provide this fine example of Julie's genuis for those of you doubting Thomases! Well, I had to as soon as I stopped laughing, that is! It's so sad, it's funny. Click on the link, hmmmm?
My beautiful infertile friends will especially like it. This is almost as good as the greeting cards she did at the beginning of the year! If you want to laugh your ass completely silly, then PLEASE, PLEASE click on this BUSH 2004 , because I almost peed myself laughing! Trust me darlings, it is NOT what you are expecting.
*wicked, evil grin*
I just had to provide this fine example of Julie's genuis for those of you doubting Thomases! Well, I had to as soon as I stopped laughing, that is! It's so sad, it's funny. Click on the link, hmmmm?
My beautiful infertile friends will especially like it. This is almost as good as the greeting cards she did at the beginning of the year! If you want to laugh your ass completely silly, then PLEASE, PLEASE click on this BUSH 2004 , because I almost peed myself laughing! Trust me darlings, it is NOT what you are expecting.
*wicked, evil grin*
Because I Want To!
Carrie Jo asked me a few questions based on my last post. I could have answered her privately in an email, but I’ve decided to actually make it a post. I appreciate her genuine interest.
Carrie Jo and I have “known” each other for over a year now, I think. She is a real sweetheart I met through the comments section over at JULIE’S. She is a fellow infertile, with additional problems that when she confided them to us, broke my heart, to be honest. She is an intelligent, caring and compassionate woman and I’m so very glad that she has come back to the blogworld after her “hiatus” (I missed you woman!) and found her way to my blog and is kind enough to leave comments.
Now, for Carrie Jo’s question. Did I grow up in the US and is it scary living under a foreign government.
Yes hon, I was born and raised in the USA. *Cue Bruce Springsteen here* Haha. I was born in North Miami Beach, Florida. When my parents divorced, Mama and I moved to Jacksonville. Then, here is my quickie list of where I’ve lived: Munich, Germany-Paris, France-back to dad for another try in Miami- then, when it wasn’t working out to Los Angeles- then Oklahoma (shudder, retch, hated it! Sorry Okies, long story)-back to Los Angeles for the long haul until early 1998 when I moved to Bahrain.
Is it scary to live under a foreign government? No. Not really. At least here it isn’t, I realize that there are other places here in the Middle East that I just couldn’t live. Saudi Arabia is one, Iran is another. Not that I would!
The population is about 700,000. (Locals and expatriates combined!) I would say about 300,000 of that number are Bahrainis. Here the ruling family is very tolerant of all other religions. Of course, Islam is the main religion, but others are freely allowed to practice here. Muslims, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus… all live side by side peacefully and practice their respective religions. You are not allowed to try to convert a Muslim to your religion, however. That could end you up in some deep doo-do.
Women are not really suppressed here. We all drive. Women do not have to cover, but do so only if they choose to. (or the men in their lives make them.) But it isn’t mandatory and ordered and enforced by the Government like in Iran (where I’ve been a few times on vacation) or in Saudi Arabia, where it is even more restricted.
There is the normal government bullshit that goes on all over the world, of course. But the Bahrain government has strong ties with the United States and England. But it is now a democratically ruled monarchy much like England. (Does that even make a lick of sense? Well, that’s what they say anyhow!) Well, they are trying and I give full points for that!
There are benefits to living and working here too. So many people come here from Europe, Canada, and the United States to work, enjoy the lifestyle, salary and benefits that they quite frankly would most likely be unable to have back home, and many end up staying and raising their kids here. There are “foreigners” that have lived here for more than 20-30 years.
To start with, Bahrain is currently a tax-haven. NO taxes on salary, consumer goods, or perishables. No tax on food. . Also, gasoline is at a fixed price, and it is very reasonable. (Understandably) Therefore, foreigners end up frequently driving cars that they wouldn’t possibly be able to afford to drive back home where we all have to frequently look forward to an hour drive at least in some states to work everyday. The luxury cars that are gas guzzlers. Huge SUV’s and the like. Some men come and have such senior positions, (ie: salary) that their wives can stay at home and not work if they so choose. Not all, but some.
Most homes have housemaids/nannies, either live-in or part time. Again, at very little cost. I mean seriously cheap labor. Try this on for size; you can have a live-in FULL TIME housemaid/nanny for as little as US$120.00 a month + food & necessities. Meaning, house is always clean and neat, laundry always clean and pressed, full time babysitter. Waiting there for your kids when they get home from school with a nice hot lunch waiting for them. This, I think, is an amazing option particularly for working moms here. If you get lucky, some of them are amazing cooks, for the ladies that don’t cook, or can’t be bothered. Whenever you and hubby want an evening out with friends, go on out!
Living the life of Riley, eh? Yeah, to some extent. There is give and take in all situations. Good and bad.
Now then. …. In the same post that Carrie Jo left a comment on, a very young and highly opinionated girl thought she would take the opportunity (In her first ever comment on MY blog) in the comments section to reprimand me: a soon-to-be-33 year old woman that has traveled the world extensively, for “whining” about something she found trivial like the entire country where I live being completely without electrical power for almost the whole day when, considering where I live, I should be worried about other things going on around me…put more value on life, ... etc, et al. blah blah blah.
When I read her remark, the first thing that struck me was I could have sworn I’ve read almost word-for-word an almost identical comment over on Julie’s blog a few months ago before Julie got pregnant that was left anonymously bitching at all of us infertiles to basically get a real life and stop WHINING about not being able to get pregnant, when there are problems that are more important than that going on in the world, and don’t any of us watch the news and know that? That if we want a baby so badly to just go adopt one…blah blah, and more bullshit.
Why did that particular post at Julie’s stick out in my mind so much? Well, first, because we all dog-piled on the chickenshit writer. Secondly, because I wrote such a doozy of a response that Julie did major reconstructive surgery on my comment. (ie: cut most of it out). IT was the first (and hopefully last) time she’s done that with one of my gizillion comments. Upon reflection, I admit that it was... well, strong.
The bottom line is this: Don’t fuck with my friends cause if you do, I’ll bitch-slap you into next week. You will find I’m quite protective. Apparently Cheryl b. feels the same about her friends….because she bitch-slapped the commenter on my blog before I could gather my thoughts. Actually, I loved Cheryl b to pieces waaaay before she defended me. I have NEVER seen her get so pissed before. Actually, this also goes for MittenKim too. Thank you- both of yous! I’m SO feelin the love. I’m sure the only reason my darling Mindy didn’t comment was because she was on vacation and had no inet access- (perish the thought! Shudder, twitch.) she is top dog in the pile. Well, Mindy and Amalah! Woof woof.
But I digress… back to that admonishment I received.
Little girl, the life I have led would chew you up and spit you out for breakfast.
To begin with, if you will kindly take notice, that at the top of MY blog, underneath the blog title, it states, quite clearly: "Scarlett’s got an opinion…. and she’s gonna share it whether you like it or not!” Was that not enough warning? I guess not.
It saddens me that the “little one” missed the WHOLE POINT of my post about the damn blackout. Maybe she missed it because of my rapier-sharp and cynical wit? Perhaps because she was blinded my humor and genius? (heh) Yeah, THAT must be why.
So, I will state it more clearly now. For the record. Okay? The point that so obviously went right over your head was that we all take so many things for granted on this little tiny island here in the Persian Gulf. So many people here didn’t realize just to what extent we were dependent on the electricity supply, beyond the obvious things like Air-conditioning in extreme heat and traffic signals. Typically the Ministry of Electricity & Water does timed power cuts during the extremely hot summer months. For an hour or so each day, in each “city” so that there is not so much strain on the electrical power plants. This is not a big deal. Sometimes there is so much pull during the summer from certain areas/cities that it trips the breaker for that area. They have always been good about getting it back up and running within a reasonable amount of time during such. People grumble, but it’s good-natured usually.
Now for a little lesson for you during your summer break holiday in Cause and Effect.
For an ENTIRE COUNTRY to be without power is dangerous in so many ways. The blackout lasted one day. It COULD have lasted longer. Imagine a whole country in suspended animation for days? A country that IS NOT SELF SUFFICIENT. That depends on trade? Suddenly people realized that we had to be careful with water usage, because if the tanks on top of the houses and in the compounds ran out… there was NONE for a while. There is one fresh water source that was used in old times, but it is a well, and not enough to take care of the population of this country, which is around 700,000. Therefore, we have desalinization plants to provide the water mains countrywide. But this water it produces is not for drinking.. no. We have bottled water, for drinking and cooking which people begin buying and hording just in case…..making some of us to go without. Not nice.
No electricity means the seawater is not being desalinated for consumption. We couldn’t pump gas because the pumps run on electricity. Oh yeah, and the sewerage treatment plants too. Only FOUR gas stations had generators. One of them ran out of gas. All businesses closed. Meat went bad. The majority of meat and produce is imported to Bahrain from Saudi Arabia, New Zeland, UK, and the USA. Most of the dairy products we have here are brought over the causeway from Saudi Arabia where they have dairy farms. So, while the food in ALL of our houses was going bad, so too was the food in the multitude of the grocery stores going bad.
In that one day that you said I was whining about, the country lost billions and billions of dollars. How? Well, lets see now. The products that we DO export couldn’t do business that day. Bahrain is the banking and financial hub of the entire Middle East. Millions lost from that sector alone. Then there is one of the exports… oil. Couldn’t pump from the ground by itself, now could it? The oil refineries? Needs electricity to operate. Bahrain also produces and exports steel and aluminum in massive amounts internationally. Nope, neither of them could do diddlysquat either.
There were accidents everywhere you looked due to the lack of traffic lights. But everyone was forced onto the roads because the cars air conditioning were the only source of comfort from the heat. Dammed if you do, dammed if you don’t.
The heat. Last summer, hundreds of people in France alone died from heat exhaustion in temperatures NO WHERE NEAR what we get here. It was 105-108 in Paris last summer and people were dropping like flies. That day, the temp was around 120 degrees IN THE SHADE WHERE I WAS SITTING in my car with my daughter… PLUS at least 80% humidity, which probably kicked up the apparent temperature to around 135 or more. It is so hot, and the air so heavy on your chest, that every breath you take is wet, extremely hot air. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest. Someone really heavy. For me, this is the worst… since I have asthma. It is frightening to feel as though your lungs are not working… feeling your chest heave and strain for a little air and when you don’t get enough, the lightheadedness that hits you is even more frightening.
The best thing about the blackout? People were more appreciative for the things they took for granted. All over, I heard the comments, “Oh my God, how did our grandparents, gread-grandparents stand it? No AC’s, etc..”, although, with global warming and all, it just gets hotter and hotter. It wasn’t this bad 100 years ago. But still. MY daughter, who I have been trying to tell that she doesn’t always have to be entertained my TV, DVD’s, PS2 and other things, but to entertain HERSELF if she’s “Bored” by reading.. learned just that on this blackout day. She learned my little Cause and Effect lesson that day…. THE HARD WAY. I was able to teach her, by example, how to use her HEAD effectively when presented with a problem like this. Rather than let the dairy stuff completely spoil in the fridge, I transferred it to the freezer to try and keep it from going bad just IN CASE the blackout didn’t last too long. My remark about lying on the still cool tile? Completely true. (I do not lie on my blog or generally in real life either) Keep hydrated, wear as little as possible (while still being decent when out in public), and light colors so as not to trap the heat in your body. Many other things I was able to teach her that day. It was lovely in that respect.
EVERYONE in the country was outraged that such a thing could occur in the first place though. That was the fault of the government and showed a lack of forethought and emergency plan or “In Case Of” scenarios. Hopefully they learned their lesson as thoroughly as Arianna did that day.
It was also mentioned that considering where I live, I should be more concerned with the things going on around me and it should cause me to value life or some such. Let me tell you all something. My Nickname is CNN. Cyn News Network. Got that? I am and always have been, quite aware of the world that I live in. Jeez.
Blah.
Ok everyone, watch out. Cyn is going to get mildly political here. Which I NEVER talk about two things typically… Politics and religion. If somebody doesn’t like what I say here, feel free to go. Come back tomorrow when I’m being more playful. I’ve got a lesson to teach here! It is MY blog anyway. This will be the one and ONLY time I bring up either subject. OKAY? Promise.
First. Get out your map. (Go on, I’ll wait) A real map. NO cheating. I live in Bahrain. BAHRAIN. It is an island. And a TINY ONE AT THAT. Can you find it? I bet not without a map locator on the net. Ok. Now look it up on the net if you want. See where I live? I know, it’s hard, even then. Did you find Qatar? Bahrain is a little chip off the coast of Qatar and Saudi Arabia. Look at the size of Qatar will ya? It is HUGE! And nowhere near as developed as Bahrain at present, but from what I’ve heard, it’s beginning to boom. Bahrain may be an itty-bitty place, but it is a lovely mix of old and new. Of Modern and Traditional. That is what I like about it really. The crime rate is really quite low also.
Anyway…back to the map!
Please notice that I am not, literally in the middle of the Middle East Conflict or anywhere NEAR the military action going on in Iraq or Afghanistan. Thank God. I am about a good 2 hrs plane ride from Iraq. 3 hrs from Afghanistan. I’d say the distance between San Diego, California and Seattle, Washington? Bahrain is 4 ½ -5 hours by plane away from Palestine and Jerusalem in the opposite direction. The only thing I do hear, is from time to time, the F-16 fighter jets flying over the island to go to Iraq from one of the US aircraft carriers in the Gulf. I also heard them when they would leave for Afghanistan. That’s about it. (It sounds just like Top Gun, FYI and makes your heart pound)
Just because I’m not dodging bullets and suicide bomb*rs delusional enough to think that Allah (God) will reward them for killing themselves and innocents for a “cause, even if it is called a Jih*d (holy war)” everyday does not mean there aren’t terrorists here. There are, I’m sure. Difference is, the government caught 6 of them with links to Osama the Nutcase’s organization just last month as a matter of fact. God knows what they had up their sleeves. Anyway, it is probably only a matter of time before something happens here, I’m sure.
Bahrain is the central command for the US Navy’s Fifth Fleet and has been for longer than I’ve been alive. It is also, as previously mentioned, a financial hub for the Middle East. Bright side to all of this tiny island stuff is, everyone knows everyone. Gossip travels faster than a F1 car driven by Michael Shumaker (sp?). If you don’t know someone or something, you know someone that can tell you, definitely. So it is that they can find people up to mischief, cause people here have a hard time keeping their mouths shut. That is for damn sure!
And before you start in on the whole Jih*d thing, and another lecture, (spare me) I will tell you that I don’t agree with the fact that people (kids and teenagers) that throw stones get bullets for an answer. That is complete bullshit. So hush up and don’t start. I see both sides. Both sides are at fault.
I personally believe that if President Clinton couldn’t get those two sides to reach an agreement, as hard as he tried, then they, neither one, really wants to have peace. (Bless Bill’s philandering heart! I don’t really think his getting a blowjob in the Oval office affected his actual work much. I mean, hell, a world leader was having a discussion with him on the phone and the guy had no clue what Bill was “up” to. Ha!)
I am all too aware of what is going on in this region. Z’s niece, her husband, and 5 month old daughter lived in first the compound in Saudi Arabia that was bombed by those militants last year in May. The bomb went off directly in front of their villa. Every single one of their neighbors was killed, yet they miraculously survived. They will bear their scars forever, particularly her handsome husband who now has Frankenstein type scars on his face and head, one of which almost lost him his eye. Amazingly the baby didn’t have a scratch on her. They literally crawled through the burning wreckage of their house. Or what was left of their house. So yes, I understand just how frightening it can be.
Well, that is about all we have time for today folks. Tune in tomorrow for a more lighthearted post, hmmmm?
8/23/2004
Stupid Fffing Country
Can you feel the rant coming on? I know you can. It's really only a small one. Well, small by MY standards anyway!!
A question: What do you think is the worst thing that can happen in a country in late August in the Middle East with early morning temps of 105 degrees PLUS around (judging by lack of ability to draw oxygen into my lungs) 85-90% humidity? Hmmmmm???
Answer: A BLACKOUT. A WHOLE COUNTRY-WIDE BLACKOUT. Did I mention that I live on an island in the Persian Gulf? Attached to the nearest land mass by a 30km long causeway? Oh, well NOW I did.
Details:
Early this morning while I was still unconcious (another bout of insomnia.... passed out from exhaustion around 5am) the electricity went bye-bye. It woke me up. I thought to myself... "Aw shit, stupid basssards, how long I gotta wait for them to fix it this time?" (still sleep slurring my words in my head) See, it isn't odd for them to just cut the power supply for a half an hour or hour to sections of the country at a time to conserve power. I just thought it was yet another waiting game.
Nope.
After about an hour I started calling people on my moblie (cell) phone. That's when I found out the whole country was down. The damn power was out the whole day.
Maybe your don't realize just how dependent this country is on the electricity supply. I sure didn't , not until this blackout. There are the obvious things. NO Air Conditioning, tv, groceries spoiling, blah blah blah. yeah so. But also? No house phone cause the tel co computers are ALSO down for land lines. Thank God the mobiles were working, but they were so overloaded, that it took forever to get through. The Gas Stations? Closed. Only 4 had generators. Seems the newfangled gas pumps need electricity. (Aparently there were some amazing fistfights I missed at the 4 gas stations that actually WERE pumping!) One of em ran out of Gas somewhere during the middle of the day,which pissed people off even more! The traffic lights were all off also. All of them. Needless to say, on a good day, with the lights, there are accidents. Shut them down? People get all mind fucked and can't manage to drive! Accidents every freaking place. Tons of em. Water supply? Strapped. See, we were informed to use as little water as possible. Electric pumps are used to fill the big water tanks everywhere from the main water lines which come from desalinization plants which run on .........ELECTRICITY. get the picture?
The local radio station has an emergency generator. So do the 5-star hotels. The malls? No. Grocerey stores? no. The whole country shut down. Basically, we're pretty screwed today. It's 10:40pm and still some areas don't have electricty... my SIL what bought me the purse is one of em.
And me? I wrote this post by hand the old fashioned way with pen and paper while sitting with Arianna in my car with the Air Conditioning on. People were sitting in their cars, and either sitting in the garage, going around the block, (which I did every now and then and enabled me to catch Dr. Wand Monkey with his mistress- no shit!) I got fed up with cruising or just sitting in the car, so we went home. Ari had to use the bathroom, so I went in with her. Then I got to thinking.... (I hear a collective UH-OH!!!!! from around the globe Hush y'all!!!!!) looking at the cats spread flat out on the floor in various states of lazy... and noticed.. the tile floor in my bedroom is still, after all thse hours, pretty cool! Hmmmmmmmm, I wonder....... Well, if ya can't beat em, join em! I stripped off my tank top and shorts and stretched out in my underthings,on the cool tile floor! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! That was GOOD! (and brilliant of me, I must admit!) Arianna wandered in and said, all appalled "MOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!! What-ARE-YOU-DOING????????" "I'm getting cool cutie! Wanna join me?"
The electricity here came back on a few hours ago where I live.
Z? He works technically in Saudi Arabia. Literally on the bridge, Saudi side. He wasn't affected by the blackout, lucky bugger. BUT. He DID get his.
His car is still in the shop after his accident last week. So, the office driver has been taking him to work and bringing him back everyday (you can't take a rental car on the bridge from Bahrain to Saudi). This evening, Z's boss got all huffy, and told him he can't use him to get home. Z was stuck.
So I get a phone call from Z in the dark telling me (right as the elect kicks in) that he has HITCHEHIKED from Saudi. ME: SAY WHAT???? Z: "I hitched to Bahrain". ME: "The fuck you did?!" Z: " Yeeah, but they dropped me at X (Near his sisters house, kinda, but on the highway) and he was walking home! I said "Hang on, where are you exactly? He said "Well, It's pitch black, but I think I'm at XYZ ". Ok, I'm on my way!
Y'all. I was so fucking terrified. It was eerie. The whole country was pitch black. No streetlamps, nothin. Seems the only area with elect was in the near vicinity of my house. I creeped along roads with people driving like crazies on Acid. Me, Praying hard. I couldn't see jack shit. Then, I get to the intersection in front of his sisters house which, when all the lights and stoplights are working, is frigtening and you are highly likely to get killed at any rate. Excecpt NOW it's pitch dark excecpt for the cars coming from both directions at top speed. It took forever to make it across and turn left. I was cruising down the dark street looking for Z, who, it turns out, was wearing a BLACK suit. Mobile phones were shutdown due to overload of the lines... I had to hang a U-turn in another frightening intersection cause I thought I might have seen the white of his shirt on the other side a way back. I picked him up finally and crawled on back home.
Guess what the temp reading in the shade was today? 120+ 80% humidity.
And how was YOUR day?
The Betrayal –part 2 & 3
I don’t know whether to be hurt or pissed as hell. So far I’m about 50/50.
He’s’ still asking about surrogacy as recently as the day or two ago… right after I talked to him about how his last suggestion a month ago to his niece hurt and upset me. The same night that… oh wait… I didn’t tell you that part yet!
This is a doozy. Y’all really won’t believe this crap. I don’t think. But then, maybe you will….
The other evening Z, from out of the blue, said “How about adopting a cute baby from Russia? Those babies are cute!” (oh, yeah, that’s a reason to adopt a kid, cause they are cute) I looked at him and said as cally as my shock would allow: “I don’t suppose you knew that it costs loads to adopt a child from anywhere, do you?” and then I added, since emotionally, the whole adoption thing was a bit TOO much for me “and besides, I STILL haven’t told you how upset I am about you going behind my back and asking “A” (his niece with triplets) to be a surrogate for us, when you know how I feel about the whole surrogate issue.”
You could have heard a pin drop my friends. The look on his face was “deer caught in the headlights of an out of control Semi-truck”. Heh. He didn’t know she had told me and I caught him off guard…. Ie: no time whatsoever to think up a plausible lie.
Me: “didn’t know she told me, did you?”
Z: “no. But I didn’t say that!”
Me: “ yes, you did. Several times in fact. Even after I told you the reasons that honestly, surrogacy is not an intelligent option for us and how I felt about it besides.”
Z: “Oh, I was just kidding…ha ha”
Me: “Look at me when you say that please.” He couldn’t. “No, you weren’t joking, cause you got into details. She told me. And looked at me, woman-to-woman, friend-to-friend with PITY Am, I laughing? And NOW you bring up adoption! Like you think it’s free? Or cheap? It’s not. None of your alternatives are cheap. Or easier. The fact is, I CAN be pregnant, (as my two pregnancies can attest to… 1 full term, and 1 miscarriage) and I WANT to be pregnant. I just have to fight like hell to GET pregnant is all! I am weird, I know, cause I LIKE being pregnant. Even as horribly ill as I get, I like the whole pregnancy thing. And you want to take that away from me. You keep making comments about using someone with a ‘good’ uterus, cause mine must be screwed since the embryos didn’t stick 3 times. Like I’ve said before hon, this really hurts me, my feelings when you say and do these things.”
Z: “You’re oversensitive.”
I don’t know whether to be hurt or pissed as hell. So far I’m about 50/50.
He’s’ still asking about surrogacy as recently as the day or two ago… right after I talked to him about how his last suggestion a month ago to his niece hurt and upset me. The same night that… oh wait… I didn’t tell you that part yet!
This is a doozy. Y’all really won’t believe this crap. I don’t think. But then, maybe you will….
The other evening Z, from out of the blue, said “How about adopting a cute baby from Russia? Those babies are cute!” (oh, yeah, that’s a reason to adopt a kid, cause they are cute) I looked at him and said as cally as my shock would allow: “I don’t suppose you knew that it costs loads to adopt a child from anywhere, do you?” and then I added, since emotionally, the whole adoption thing was a bit TOO much for me “and besides, I STILL haven’t told you how upset I am about you going behind my back and asking “A” (his niece with triplets) to be a surrogate for us, when you know how I feel about the whole surrogate issue.”
You could have heard a pin drop my friends. The look on his face was “deer caught in the headlights of an out of control Semi-truck”. Heh. He didn’t know she had told me and I caught him off guard…. Ie: no time whatsoever to think up a plausible lie.
Me: “didn’t know she told me, did you?”
Z: “no. But I didn’t say that!”
Me: “ yes, you did. Several times in fact. Even after I told you the reasons that honestly, surrogacy is not an intelligent option for us and how I felt about it besides.”
Z: “Oh, I was just kidding…ha ha”
Me: “Look at me when you say that please.” He couldn’t. “No, you weren’t joking, cause you got into details. She told me. And looked at me, woman-to-woman, friend-to-friend with PITY Am, I laughing? And NOW you bring up adoption! Like you think it’s free? Or cheap? It’s not. None of your alternatives are cheap. Or easier. The fact is, I CAN be pregnant, (as my two pregnancies can attest to… 1 full term, and 1 miscarriage) and I WANT to be pregnant. I just have to fight like hell to GET pregnant is all! I am weird, I know, cause I LIKE being pregnant. Even as horribly ill as I get, I like the whole pregnancy thing. And you want to take that away from me. You keep making comments about using someone with a ‘good’ uterus, cause mine must be screwed since the embryos didn’t stick 3 times. Like I’ve said before hon, this really hurts me, my feelings when you say and do these things.”
Z: “You’re oversensitive.”
ME: -------?---?----?----?----?
Then he got in a huff at ME(!) for calling him on it.
I could be a bitch here if I wanted, and hurt him like he keeps hurting me, but I didn’t do it. I could have said any number of things. Like, maybe my uterus doesn’t like his DNA anymore. Like, maybe the severe STRESS that the IVF specialist said I shouldn’t be UNDER when trying to get pregnant- the stress I deal with daily from my MIL, her screaming and cursing me, throwing things around,stealing, troublemaking and HUGE problems, taking verbal shots at me to and in front of Arianna, the stress that he is ADDING to (by getting verbally shitty and abusive and being generally mean to me in the days leading up to my “trigger” shot (example, "you're mean, that's why you can't get pregnant, you should worship my mother she is so innocent! but deal with her, cause I won't ever let her leave me." (Me, gaping in disgusted shock- ME? Worship? HER? But, I"m NOT gonna worship the devil's daughter! NO WAY! - I didn't say it, but boy did I think it!) and leaving me in tears in the ultrasound room before Dr. Wand Monkey even walks in, then sees me-alone- trying to wipe/will them away, and he asks me what’s wrong and I say “I don’t know, maybe I’m tired or it’s all these hormones you’re giving me,” but he looks in my face and KNOWS it’s not that, and then shakes his head at me, looking at me all sad.
Then he got in a huff at ME(!) for calling him on it.
I could be a bitch here if I wanted, and hurt him like he keeps hurting me, but I didn’t do it. I could have said any number of things. Like, maybe my uterus doesn’t like his DNA anymore. Like, maybe the severe STRESS that the IVF specialist said I shouldn’t be UNDER when trying to get pregnant- the stress I deal with daily from my MIL, her screaming and cursing me, throwing things around,stealing, troublemaking and HUGE problems, taking verbal shots at me to and in front of Arianna, the stress that he is ADDING to (by getting verbally shitty and abusive and being generally mean to me in the days leading up to my “trigger” shot (example, "you're mean, that's why you can't get pregnant, you should worship my mother she is so innocent! but deal with her, cause I won't ever let her leave me." (Me, gaping in disgusted shock- ME? Worship? HER? But, I"m NOT gonna worship the devil's daughter! NO WAY! - I didn't say it, but boy did I think it!) and leaving me in tears in the ultrasound room before Dr. Wand Monkey even walks in, then sees me-alone- trying to wipe/will them away, and he asks me what’s wrong and I say “I don’t know, maybe I’m tired or it’s all these hormones you’re giving me,” but he looks in my face and KNOWS it’s not that, and then shakes his head at me, looking at me all sad.
He wants me to kiss MIL's ass? Honey, those days are LOOOOONGGGGGGG gone. Been there, done that. Been burned waaaaay too many times and to continue only makes me look and FEEL stupid. And stupid I'm not.
Bloody hell. In my ENTIRE LIFE, no one, not ONE person in my recollection, has EVER called ME mean. Till now. How fucked is that? I've been told I'm TOO NICE and forgiving quite a few times. But mean? uh, no.
Does Z not realize that for surrogacy, I would STILL have to go through the whole IVF procedure (ie, for his clarification, have to pay the COST of meds and IVF package) except that 3 days after egg collection, they would transfer my embryos to another woman instead of my uterus (which works ok, is healthy and normal, thank God)?? I mean, for people that have problems with their uterus this is a completely necessary plan. It is reasonable. But for me? My uterus is NOT the problem. I have PCOS. My ovaries are fucked, stubborn, etc… whatever . My tubes, clear. Both of em.
Ok, I sound pissed, don’t I? Well I am. And I’m very hurt too.
Know why? Huh? Cause, when I was talking this over with N (hamster owning niece) tonight and mentioning his surrogate comments… she got confused… and told me, Oh, I thought you were talking about him saying it the other night. Me: “WHA? The other night?” She said, “yeah, I was at “A’s” house and he was asking her “be a surrogate for us. Come on!” He said it twice, and she said “Oh be quiet!” and turned her back on him and changed the subject. I didn’t know he had said it to her before also!”
Gee, that would be the day after the conversation I related above about surrogacy and adoption.
Well, shit.
Shouldn’t I sound pissed? I really AM so pissed. Hurt. Pissed. Angry. I can’t make up my mind. Shouldn’t I be hurt? Angry? I don’t THINK I’m being oversensitive here.
Does Z not realize that for surrogacy, I would STILL have to go through the whole IVF procedure (ie, for his clarification, have to pay the COST of meds and IVF package) except that 3 days after egg collection, they would transfer my embryos to another woman instead of my uterus (which works ok, is healthy and normal, thank God)?? I mean, for people that have problems with their uterus this is a completely necessary plan. It is reasonable. But for me? My uterus is NOT the problem. I have PCOS. My ovaries are fucked, stubborn, etc… whatever . My tubes, clear. Both of em.
Ok, I sound pissed, don’t I? Well I am. And I’m very hurt too.
Know why? Huh? Cause, when I was talking this over with N (hamster owning niece) tonight and mentioning his surrogate comments… she got confused… and told me, Oh, I thought you were talking about him saying it the other night. Me: “WHA? The other night?” She said, “yeah, I was at “A’s” house and he was asking her “be a surrogate for us. Come on!” He said it twice, and she said “Oh be quiet!” and turned her back on him and changed the subject. I didn’t know he had said it to her before also!”
Gee, that would be the day after the conversation I related above about surrogacy and adoption.
Well, shit.
Shouldn’t I sound pissed? I really AM so pissed. Hurt. Pissed. Angry. I can’t make up my mind. Shouldn’t I be hurt? Angry? I don’t THINK I’m being oversensitive here.
Am I?
Ricky and Lucy
Went to go visit N at work yesterday. I met the little hamsters. Yeah. THE HAMSTERS! Ricky and Lucy.
They are… RED! She is light, orangey red, and he is RED!!! Like my hair red. He also has really big balls. She was NOT joking. Or Exaggerating. I mean, he walks funny cause of it. For the record. He is actually HEWGE also, as in OBESE. But very cute. She is NOT cute, that Lucy hamster. She looks like a rat. I don’t Love Lucy. But I love me some Ricky the hamster with gi-normous testicles. I was talking to him and he came up to the side of the cage where I was and stood up (how he balanced with that fat tummy and big ole balls is waaaaaaaay beyond me!) and wiggled his little nose and whiskers at me. Yes, I was talking to the damn hamsters. WHAT? I talk to animals. Hell, I cuss at lizards even . (ewwww) I didn't get to see his "belly button" though... I think that would have been TMI for me for the day, you know?
I still can’t believe she keeps the little buggers at work though.
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
I will now answer any odd Ricky the hamster questions you might be chomping at the bit to ask me.
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